A Southern Girl
by Laneblack
Summary: Dr. Greg House encounters a Princeton University doctoral student in the PPTH clinic, a woman from the deep south. A friendship, of sorts, ensues with a myriad of complicating events and people, including a possible romance. Now completed. HouseOC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: In the Hospital

Divorces were hard. Marriages were easy – too easy to agree to and too easy to get. But divorces – they were dammed near impossible to secure. You never heard of anyone getting drunk, flying off to Las Vegas and getting divorced.

I had celebrated my divorce from the most articulate redneck lawyer in all of Alabama by applying to Princeton to pursue a doctorate in English with my dissertation specializing in contemporary British playwrights. Amazingly, I was not only accepted, but I was given a teaching assistantship as well. I found the end of the summer signaling a new beginning as I moved my few southern belongings into a studio apartment near the campus and tried to acquaint myself with the area before the beginning of classes. I was wholly unprepared for the illness that overtook me with cramping and bleeding for several days; finally, at the urging of my supervisor, Dr. Jacobs, I traveled to the clinic at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital.

I must have looked a sight – 40-year-old female in bright orange running shorts with navy letters spelling TIGER across my ss (souvenirs from my alma mater, Auburn University), a navy tank top, and Nike running shoes. I was standing in the exam room, leaning over, holding onto the exam table, when I could hear the door opening behind me.

"And you must be," a lackadaisical voice began. It paused momentarily, then continued, "Tiger. So, Tiger, what symptoms are you having?" I heard him fling himself onto a rolling stool.

I tried to turn to face the doctor, but as I did my stomach cramped violently and I unintentionally puked on his Nikes.

"What the he!!?" he yelled and started to get up, but I was feeling faint and, apparently, fell right atop him before he could stand up. That was all I remember of my first meeting with Dr. Gregory House.

My head felt like the inside of a snare drum as I struggled to open my eyes. I thought, initially, I was hallucinating, if not actually dead, when all I could discern was a blond-haired young man with a darling smile of impossibly white teeth. He proved himself to be real, however, when he immediately began to flash a penlight into my grumpy eyes. I tried to knock it away. "What are you doing?"

"I just need to check your vitals, Audra," he said in an appealing Australian accent. I expected him to offer me a can of lager at any moment.

"I thought I was in heaven until you started tormenting me with that wicked light."

He smiled and chuckled. "I just have to see how you are doing."

"And how would that be?"

"We've done some blood tests, but we need an MRI. Did you know you were pregnant?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, no, angel from he!!, I did not know any such thing. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Audra, I am Dr. Chase. You are about 10 weeks pregnant. You didn't know?"

I rubbed my hand across my face, but, of course, I did not backhand the attractive Dr. Chase. "You heard me correctly. My being pregnant comes not only as a surprise, but as what one might call a miraculous surprise."

"Audra," Dr. Chase said in a very serious tone, "you've been bleeding while you've been here. Have you had any spotting before now?"

I tried to sit up. "How long have I been here?" My voice was a bit shrill.

Dr. Chase handed me a glass of water and calmly told me I had been unconscious only about eight hours – it was now early evening. I, in exchange, told him I had been bleeding and cramping for several days.

"Am I losing this baby?" I asked.

"There is always the possibility of a spontaneous abortion during the first trimester, but we will do everything we can to prevent that from happening."

"No," I practically yelled. I took a breath and then continued, "I don't want this baby." I turned away from the perplexed Dr. Chase and refused to answer any more of his questions. Eventually, he left my room.

I panicked. As soon as I was alone, I carefully removed the IV from my arm. I didn't know what they were pumping into me, but I knew I dammed sure didn't want any of that liquid to keep this baby inside of me alive. I lifted the hospital's attempt at a gown and saw the huge pad pooled with blood between my thighs. I took comfort in this. Surely such a loss of blood would indicate no good for the baby. I tried to rest back on the bed again.

The cramping had begun to return ever so faintly by the time I heard the footsteps punctuated by the thump of the cane coming toward my room. My back was still to the door and I made no attempt to turn over. He banged his cane on the edge of my bed.

"Tiger, oh Tiger. Wakey, wakey," he sang in a mock nursery tune.

"Bite me."

"That's not very polite considering you owe me a new pair of Nikes. And, who-oh-who removed your IV?"

"Wash your Nikes."

"I'd be willing to bet you're not feeling so well right now; in fact, I'd bet your pain meds have worn off and you're beginning to cramp and hurt and you're probably thinking of barfing again – am I in the ball park?"

"Come to this side of the bed and find out."

He laughed. "You can have a legal abortion, you know. So why endanger your own life just to terminate a fetus?"

I was cramping heartily now and couldn't, even with my back to the doctor, remain stoic. I pulled my knees up under my chin and vomited onto the floor. The doctor yelled into the hall, "Nurse with a mop."

I pulled my head back onto my pillow and he addressed me again. "How long are we going to continue playing chicken with this fetus?"

I turned my head and looked at him for the first, clear time. He had huge, aquamarine eyes so light and deep I stopped breathing for the longest of moments. "Won't the baby just abort?"

"Interesting thing, Tiger – this fetus is digging in its heels. It's going to make you vomit and cramp and bleed, it's going to send your fever sky high and your heart rate even higher, but the bugger is showing no signs of leaving its comfy home of its own accord."

"It has to self-abort."

"Tiger," the doctor said, sitting beside the bed and leaning closer to my face, "if you don't want this fetus to become a baby, then why don't you request an abortion and I'll arrange it right now. Its determination is no match for technology."

I turned back away from those eyes. "No."

"Tiger, you're bucking for a psych consult. What do you think?"

"My mind is just fine, and you know that or you wouldn't ask me."

He chuckled. "I've talked to Dr. Jacobs. He's quite impressed with you. He thinks you are amazingly talented even if you are from Alabama. He thinks you have a lot of potential – I've always detested that phrase. What do you think, Tiger?"

"I think you need to leave."

"You're going to need a transfusion if you continue to bleed."

"So?"

"You've listed no 'next-of-kin,' Tiger. No one to call."

"So?"

"For a doctoral candidate in English, your vocabulary is singularly limited, Tiger."

I turned over, facing the angular, unshaven face that encased those blue eyes. I tried to lean up, but I felt weak. "My vocabulary is spectacular when the occasion calls for it. This occasion calls for you to allow my baby to abort or die or do whatever has to be done to be rid of it."

"Then, Tiger," he said in a quiet and almost gentle tone, "sign for a D&C and we'll be able to end the life of the fetus and start paying attention to getting your health back on an even keel."

"Hear me, Dr. . . Blue Eyes, nothing will be done to hasten the demise of my baby. Once the baby no longer is alive, then you may do whatever is necessary and normal to take care of me." I was growing weaker and my last words trailed off as I felt my vision fading. So ended my second encounter with Dr. House.

I groggily awoke to Dr. Chase yelling at me and shaking my shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm here, what do you want?" I asked hatefully.

Blondie shoved a clipboard under my chin and placed a pen in my hand. "We need for you to sign these forms for the transfusion. If we don't get some blood in you, we're going to lose you."

I scribbled something, then leaned over the side of the bed and vomited right onto Dr. Chase's shoes, which was a particular shame as they were leather loafers.

"My bad," I muttered as he backed up and refrained from swearing. "Am I losing the baby?"

"Uh," he stammered as he shook the goo off his feet, "not so far. Now that you're awake we'll bring in the portable sonogram and show you a picture of your baby. Would you like that?"

"Yeah," I muttered, but my heart wasn't in it.

A skinny, brunette, teenaged doctor showed up with a bag of blood and hooked it to the IV that had been reconnected to my arm. While the bag emptied into me, I waited alone for the portable sonogram to appear. I admit I was curious; I had never had a baby, and so had never had a sonogram done before. I wanted to get a glimpse of the tadpole who was tormenting me so.

Blue Eyes came loudly, unceremoniously back with both the cane and a machine I took to be the sonogram. He pushed it next to the bed and positioned himself beyond puking distance of me. "Pull up your gown," he directed tersely.

I did. He squirted some jelly on my belly, then ran a wand against my middle and the machine came to life. He reached up and angled the screen so I could see.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a stubborn fetus with a thick, southern accent," he responded.

"But, where is it?" I insisted. All I could see were wavy lines.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll show you your fetus if you explain to me why you've taken such a confusing attitude to it – deal?"

I was squinting at the screen but could make out nothing, so I nodded.

Blue Eyes lowered the wand just a tad and the lines, while still squiggly, seemed to part around a tiny seedling. I could actually see the rapid flutter of its heart. I looked at the doctor. "Hey, Blue Eyes, you had that wand-thingy in the wrong place. No fair."

He turned off the machine and handed me a tissue to wipe off the jelly. "Tiger, nothing and everything's fair when you're my patient. Now, let's hear why you won't abort but don't want this fetus."

I put my head back on my pillow and sighed. Oh he!!.

Blue Eyes sighed. "According to Dr. Jacobs, you're divorced. Would I be correct in assuming this is the offspring of your ex?"

I laughed. "My ex may be capable of many fantastical feats, but even he couldn't ejaculate ten miles through brick and wood with enough force to penetrate my uterus."

Blue Eyes sighed. "I'll take that as a 'no.' Tiger, this would be much quicker if you'd just give me the info rather than insisting I pull it out of you."

I looked over at him and thought about the implications of this pregnancy. "Are you married, Blue Eyes?"

"The name is House, and not even close."

"My marriage was more like a partnership – I played hostess for his business dinners, and he allowed me time off to pursue my education. Sex was never a major player." I had to pause. "We parted when he found a better hostess, one who was also a lawyer and could bring in more money than I."

He rolled his hand in a "hurry up" motion.

"I'm sorry. Am I keeping you, because it's the middle of the night and I'd prefer sleeping to discussing impregnation."

He looked down and smiled ever so slightly. "Actually, it's the wee hours of the morning and I'm quite happy to stay here listening to you because every hour I log here with you is one less hour I have to spend back in the clinic."

"The clinic – where we first met? I would have expected you to be a bit more sentimental about it."

"I can only write off one pair of new Nikes a week – you filled that quota yesterday."

We actually looked at each other and smiled.

"Okay, Tiger, get to the father."

"I was running on campus during the summer – I had moved into a dorm room while the divorce was being finalized and while I was moving – and I was, well, I thought he was just running, too, but, as it turned out, he had been watching me . . ."

"You were raped."

I couldn't look at him, but I nodded.

"Did you know him?"

"It was dark, late at night, and the lighting was bad. He caught me from behind and covered my eyes. He got me into some shrubbery – I guess I should say he got me in the bushes – I never saw his face. He whispered when he talked to me. I just did what he said."

When I finally looked up, Dr. House's eyes seemed darker and his expression was grim and concentrated. "Did you call the police, file a report?"

"No, Blue Eyes, I just thanked him for the good time and gave him my cell number. Of course I called the police. I didn't even bathe. I went through the entire examination thing, with the hospital, and then the interrogation with the police." I felt myself tearing up, so I reached for the water and drank some to give me a chance to put my mask back in place. "The police explained how unlikely it would be to catch anyone since I could give them no description, really, of the rapist, except that he wore New Balance running shoes." I laughed a little hysterically then.

"And you hadn't been on any birth control?"

"No. Allen and I weren't much for having sex – he really didn't care for anything involving physical contact – and we just figured we would take our chances. I am forty, after all, so it didn't really occur to me I'd get pregnant. It would be my luck."

"Tiger," he said and touched my hand, causing me to look into his face. He had shoved the sonogram machine away from the bed and was right beside my shoulder. "Do you want a baby?"

"That's not really the question, Blue Eyes. The question is, do I want _this_ baby. And I don't have an easy answer." I broke his gaze. "I don't like calling it a 'fetus,' but I'm not ready to call it a baby. I need to name it. I'm thinking Hamlet would be appropriate since I'm vacillating about its existence."

"Then we should call _you_ Hamlet. This fetus is he!! bent on surviving. You'd best find a different literary namesake."

I looked back into his lovely eyes and answered him, "Then he must be Ulysses, coming home. And I must be Molly Bloom."

Blue Eyes laughed and squeezed my hand. I felt the tears slide down my cheeks. I dropped my head in shame.

"Okay, Molly Bloom, if you promise not to rip out your IV, I'll see if I can score some real food for the two of us," Blue Eyes said while shoving the sonogram out of the room. I suspected my crying made him uncomfortable, although it certainly embarrassed the crap out of me, and he left to give me a chance to get my emotions in check. If only it were so simple.

I remembered the feel of the male body shoving me atop an azalea bush, pulling on my shorts and kneeing apart my legs. He had taken me from behind, and it had been agonizing. I had tried to yell, but he had pushed my face farther into the shrub and told me he'd hurt me if I didn't stay quiet. I had believed him. I had bled afterwards, not the way I was bleeding with Ulysses, but the parallel was not lost on me. Did I want this seedling? Could I raise a child on my own? A child with a completely unknown father? Holy he!!, what a mess. But Ulysses was a strong-willed seedling – surely this must say something positive about his genetics.

Blue Eyes returned with sodas and a bedpan full of vending machine snacks. I grabbed a can of grape soda and a bag of Funyuns while the doctor had, appropriately, chosen Dr. Pepper and barbeque chips.

"I have a question, Dr. Blue Eyes. Can you do any kind of genetic testing on Ulysses?"

Through a full mouth, Blue Eyes answered, "Yes, but we're a bit limited since we don't know what we're looking for. Any genetic problems in your family, Molly Bloom?"

I shook my head in the negative.

"The bleeding should be ending. You'd probably be more comfortable with some things of your own, although I suspect you find that hospital gown quite titillating."

I lowered the sheet and looked askance at the gown. "But, Blue Eyes, who would I be trying to titillate? You?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"Women pregnant by unknown assailants get you hot?"

"Never underestimate the powers of my imagination, Molly."

I felt myself, unaccountably, blushing.

"I was thinking," he continued, "I could send one of my flunkies to your place and have them pick up some things."

I swallowed a mouth full of Funyuns and said, "Flunkies? You have flunkies?"

"Flunkies, fellows, same difference. You're going to be here a while – you might as well have some of your own things."

I nodded. I didn't know then that he would, himself, go to my apartment for my things. Blue Eyes could never turn down a chance to examine another's life.

"I start classes in a week – I'll be okay by then, right?"

"That's my plan, Molly. Of course, if Ulysses, at anytime, becomes unstable, you might have to remain reclined."

"I prefer to teach upright, but, if I have to, I can teach while sitting down."

"Molly, dear, by 'reclined' I meant flat on your back, pretty much as you are now."

"Ahhh," I said with a smile, "now I understand. You're concerned I might use my hospital gown for flirting with my students and my professors. Although, now I think of it, I imagine this gown would be more likely to work on the students. Teenagers are so easy to excite."

"Don't you think the bloody pad would put them off?"

I laughed, "Just a tad."

Blue Eyes and I crunched through the bedpan of junk food. He popped a pill for dessert but told me I couldn't have one – it wouldn't be good for Ulysses. I was tiring anyway and dozed off with the sounds of him slurping soda in my ears.

I heard the steps punctuated by the thump of his cane and a louder thump that made me jump out of a sound sleep. "What?" I almost screamed.

He slung a gym bag on my bed. "Here are some of your things. Apparently you don't own any pajamas, so there's a pair of sweat pants on the top. Slip those on and I'll take you and your IV pole to the cafeteria for lunch."

I sat up in the bed and unzipped the bag. Lying on top of my worn, gray sweats was a pair of panties. I held them up and looked at him, "Blue Eyes, a thong?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Dr. Cameron must have gone to your apartment. She looks all girly, but the rumors say she goes both ways."

I stared at him. "Dr. Cameron? Is that the little brunette girl? Blue Eyes, you brought these from my apartment, didn't you?"

He turned and exited, stopping briefly at the door. "Put on the sweats and I'll be back in ten minutes. No flapping hospital gowns in the cafeteria."

Getting out of bed and into real clothing was easier said than done. I was much weaker than I had realized. However, by the time B.E. returned I had my backside covered and was trying to get my Nikes on my feet. Bending over was awkward and I was sore.

"Here, Ms. Joyce, let me tie them," B.E. said. I watched him bend over and perform such a personal chore for me; I was touched. When I looked up over his head I realized another doctor was watching us from the doorway.

"Hello?" I said hesitantly.

The doctor stepped forward.

B.E. stood up and took my hand to help me to my feet. "That's Dr. Wilson. He's just here to escort your IV pole."

I looked back at Dr. Wilson as B.E. pulled me past him. "My IV pole thanks you."

Dr. Wilson nodded, "I am honored."

As we made our halting way down the hall, I asked B.E. what else he had brought me from my apartment.

"I told you, Ms. Joyce, Dr. Cameron sent you the sweats, a Beatles t-shirt (good taste there), a couple of books, a John Hiatt cd (good taste there, too), and some note cards in case you want to write someone."

"Which books?"

"It was dammed hard to pick – the place is littered with them."

I stopped short, and Dr. Wilson and the pole almost ran into me. "So you admit you were in my apartment."

B.E. jerked my arm to get me into an elevator. "I'm just repeating Dr. Cameron's complaint."

As Dr. Wilson followed us into the elevator I thought I caught him smiling at B.E.


	2. Chapter 2: Doctors and Food

Chapter Two: Doctors and Food

The four of us, Blue Eyes, Dr. Wilson, my IV pole, and myself, made it to the cafeteria and to a table with food without too much added drama. Just as I had stuffed my mouth with green vegetables, Blue Eyes addressed the other doctor, "Wilson, Ms. James Joyce, here, is from Alabama." He then turned to me. "Did you grow up in a trailer park?"

I was chewing very slowly. Dr. Wilson uttered a cautionary, "House," but B.E. was honed in on me. I cleared my throat.

"Now that you mention it, Blue Eyes, I did live in a trailer park. I wish I could say we had a double wide, but we didn't. Every spring we'd have tornadoes and that trailer would rock like a cradle in the wind. I used to lie in my bed listening to stuff flying off – window screens, roof shingles, antennas. Fear was a motivating force in the religion of my youth." I stopped and felt slightly ashamed when I recognized they were both fixated on me with the enraptured stares of the utterly gullible. "And the thing was, I had this pet pig named Wilbur, and we didn't have a fence, so he slept with me . . ." Well, I finally had to stop. "Come on guys, say something."

Wilson shook his head sheepishly and looked into his plate, but B.E. just kept staring at me. "And I bet your mother and father are cousins, too."

Now I had him. "Okay, hot shot, my mother and father _actually_ are third cousins."

Blue Eyes looked at Wilson and said, "Scheherazade needs to spend less time telling tales and more time writing them down."

"My parents _are_ third cousins, dammit!" I protested rather lamely.

"Did you have a black mammy?" B.E. asked me.

I leaned right into his face. "No, but you're about to have a black eye, puddin'."

"Whoa now," Wilson interrupted nervously. "Play nice, you two."

Blue Eyes and I were nose-to-nose and I was offended. I tried to get up, reaching for my IV pole, but my grand exit was prevented since B.E. had his foot on my tubing. I looked down at his brand new pair of Nikes and back into his eyes.

"Don't you even," he started.

"Then get your blasted foot off my cord."

Wilson stood up, trying to intervene, but my dander was up and I was not to be placated. I pulled back my right arm and took a swing at B.E.'s rather prominent nose; at about the time I should have connected, he leaned over to untangle my IV from his foot, so my fist missed his nose but my chest landed squarely against his head. I made some embarrassing "Ummmpff" noise while he lifted his face right up between my meager breasts.

Wilson yelled, "Audra," and climbed across the table to try to separate the two of us. We were beginning to gather an audience. I smacked B.E. right on top of his head.

"Do you think you could pull your face out of my cleavage?"

"There's cleavage? Where?" he said as he rubbed his face back and forth on my chest.

I extended both hands and lunged forward with all my weight, hitting against his shoulders and shoving him backwards onto the floor with me on top of him.

Wilson finally got to us. He grabbed me around my waist and lifted me off Dr. House. I was kicking and muttering and behaving as foolishly as anyone could want. Once the two doctors managed to sort out my IV apparatus, Dr. Wilson put me down a far distance from Blue Eyes. I turned my back to him while he was climbing up from the floor. I really wanted to kick his cane across the cafeteria, but I didn't think that would win me many friends. I reached out to grab my pole and travel back to my room; however, my exertions had weakened me so that I not only missed grabbing the pole, but I lost my balance completely and hit the floor head first. At least, that's what Dr. Wilson told me when I woke up an hour later in my room.

"Bet you have a headache," Dr. Wilson said just as I opened my eyes.

I wanted to say something horribly rude to him, but he had such an adorable baby face I just couldn't. "Can't you give me something to make me forget that whole abomination in the cafeteria?"

He chuckled in a warm-and-fuzzy-doctor way. "Wouldn't help. Every nurse, technician, or janitor who gets within twenty yards of you will want to know if you really took a swing at House. They'll probably want to shake your hand or get your autograph."

I suddenly remembered Ulysses. "He's okay, isn't he?"

"His pride is hurt and he has a small bump on the back of his head, but he'll survive."

Before I could get out the "Huh?" I was thinking, I realized Dr. Wilson was referring to Blue Eyes. A small bump. I could fix that.

"About the baby?"

"Oh," he said. "You had a bit more exercise than House had intended, but everything seems to be holding steady. As long as you don't start bleeding or cramping . . . In fact, I'd suggest you try to get some rest. You can call a nurse if you need anything."

"Dr. Wilson, why are you here?"

He looked flustered for a second. "We didn't want you to wake up alone."

"And Blue Eyes is sulking."

For the first time I saw a genuine smile from Dr. Wilson. "That he is, Audra. That he is."

The next time I woke up the sky was black outside my window and Blue Eyes was banging on my bed with his cane.

"Heavens, you're worse than an alarm clock. What time is it?"

"It's the wee hours of the morning – time to eat."

As my eyes focused I realized he had a tray covered with Chinese take-out containers. There must have been a dozen of them.

"Where did you get Chinese at this time of night?" I was trying to act disinterested, but the aroma was making my stomach growl.

"I know a guy. Besides, we've been banned from the cafeteria for a week."

He handed me a paper plate with a little bit of a lot of stuff on it. "Only a week? Your boss is a wuss."

"No, _she_ just can't stand to be away from me any longer."

Even though my mouth was crammed with shrimp and bok choy and rice, I laughed obnoxiously. I think I hurt his feelings. We ate for awhile in silence.

"I have a question for you, Blue Eyes." He was still eating, but I had reached my limit.

"You only get one."

"Don't you sleep?"

He took a medicine bottle out of his shirt pocket and rattled it at me. "My pain meds keep me up. Now, I get to ask you a question."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Not the mammy thing again. Do you have some kind of Aunt Jemima fetish? Do you dream of doing it while wearing a bandana and smelling of maple syrup?"

"Hmmmm," he paused. "Let me get back to you on the maple syrup thing. Siblings?"

Fortified with food, I was feeling energetic and exasperated. "What are you asking me? Is this a poll? Am I for them? Against them? Planning any for Ulysses? I can give a definite no to that."

"So, Scheherazade, you're still planning on keeping the fetus."

"Yes, Blue Eyes, I'm keeping Ulysses. In fact, the longer I ponder spending your northern winter alone trying to teach your northern students how to write, the more I like the idea of welcoming a new family member in the spring. As you pointed out, Ulysses has proven to be quite resilient and hardy, definite qualities a fatherless child will need."

He looked at me with an intense, searching stare, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine; I had the eerie sensation he knew me, knew something about me. I had no doubt he had been to my apartment and had been through my apartment, but somehow he had discovered something about me there, somewhere, and he knew me now. I felt naked and vulnerable under his blue-eyed stare. I had to look away.

"I don't even know your name," I finally whispered.

"I told you – Dr. House."

"You've never called me by name, and you call me something different every time I see you. For all I know House is just one of your many aliases. Today you're House, tomorrow you'll be Hotel, the next day you'll be Brothel. How do I even know you're a doctor? Do you have any identification on you?"

"I have a stethoscope somewhere."

"Is Ulysses a boy?"

"Your Ulysses? How would I know?"

"You did the sonogram. I thought you could tell on a sonogram. Where's your doctor's license?"

He smiled. "You're not far enough along to tell on the sonogram. Besides, I'm not an obstetrician."

"You're _not_ an obstetrician? Why have you been messing with my uterus then?" I was beginning to screech a little.

"Strictly speaking, I haven't 'messed' with your uterus. And you became my patient when you puked on me and then passed out on top of me in the clinic. Are you having memory problems?" He pulled a penlight out of his ss and started waving it in my eyes. I detested having little lights waved in my eyes.

"Stop that. And what kind of doctor are you?"

He put the penlight away and sighed. "I'm a diagnostician. And my first name is Greg."

I smiled. "My brother's name is Greg."

"Did he have a black mammy?"

I can't explain it, but I laughed. Then I slapped his shoulder. "What did you do, find the last existing copy of _Tobacco Road_ and commit it to memory? Did you have a black mammy?"

"I did well to have a mother."

"My grandfather was what you'd call the owner of a whorehouse," I thoughtlessly remarked.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "And what would you call him?"

"An entrepreneur."

"I think I'd like Alabama."

Since I was barred from the cafeteria, Drs. Chase and Cameron came before lunch to get me up and walk me around. They were both breathtakingly beautiful and preoccupied flirting with each other. I was feeling a bit devilish. I smiled as sweetly as I could at Dr. Chase and said with the thickest accent I could manage, "I'm still feeling so very unsteady, Dr. Chase. Would you lend me your sturdy arm to lean on?" I then shoved my beloved IV pole at Dr. Cameron. "I'm sure you won't mind shepherding this for me." Her look was just the slightest bit disdianful.

I wrapped both my arms around Dr. Chase's forearm and marveled at our ability to traverse a conversation despite our dueling accents. Occasionally I would feel a tug on my IV; I would turn to give a cutting glare at Dr. Cameron. Once I even complained to Dr. Chase that the IV was causing a great deal of pain and irritation in my arm. I enjoyed watching him give her a pleading look.

I was appropriately punished for my evil manipulations; while I was concentrating on tormenting the two young doctors I had lost track of our meanderings. Dr. Chase opened an office door and before I realized where I was, I looked ahead of me to see Dr. Blue Eyes leaning back in a chair with his feet crossed on his desk. He had a magic eight ball he was tossing from one hand to the other. When our eyes met and my mouth fell wide open, I tried to straighten up and stop leaning so heavily on the beauteous Dr. Chase, but I was caught. B.E. grinned mischievously.

"Oh wise, magic eight ball, does the lovely Scheherazade have a tale to tell while I feed her lunch?" He turned the eight ball over, grinned still harder, and read, "All conditions are favorable." He looked to me. "What do you say, Scheherazade?"

He lifted the cover from a dish of curry, which I would normally find appealing, but the morning sickness objected to curry and I heaved all over Dr. Cameron's linen pumps. Dr. Chase jerked away from me so quickly I nearly fell, and Dr. Cameron pushed my IV pole away as she squealed and kicked her shoes off. The pole hit Blue Eyes's desk and jerked the line right out of my arm. Blood spurted everywhere. B.E. grabbed his cane and made his way around his desk and leaned over beside me.

"Give me your arm," he growled.

I held it out, and he applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

"Chase, quick, tape."

Dr. Chase left Dr. Cameron in a pool of vomit and found the surgical tape and threw it to B.E., who wrapped it tightly around my arm. "Chase, get a wheelchair. Hurry."

Dr. Chase disappeared into the hall and came back with a wheelchair. I was soon deposited into it and B.E. was unevenly pushing me back to my room. As soon as we were no longer in sight of the other two doctors, he leaned near my ear and whispered, "See what happens when you foolishly toy with young, innocent babies?"

"Yeah – I don't get to eat curry."

"Not only do you forfeit curry, but I get to insert a new IV – and I'm not feeling particularly gentle right now."

"Awww, I didn't barf on your shoes," I whined.

He chuckled in my ear. "Then maybe I'll get you something bland . . . after I stick you."

I groaned. "You're just pure evil, Blue Eyes."

"And you love it, Tiger."

When the man was right, he was right.

I managed to convince B.E. to leave the IV out long enough for me to get a real shower and to wash my hair. Rather than put a hospital gown back on, I put on the Beatles t-shirt he had brought me along with my sweat pants (no, I just couldn't bear to wear the thong). It felt heavenly to be clean and untethered, but I knew Blue Eyes wasn't going to allow me to wander free and unfettered for long. However, I was surprised when I fell asleep still unconnected to my pole.

This time B.E. woke me by repeatedly ramming a wheelchair into my bed. When I finally sat up and realized it was him, he held his index finger to his lips in a shushing motion, then helped me into the wheelchair. "Where?" I whispered.

He leaned against my ear. "Be quiet, nosey parker."

He wheeled me quickly through the halls avoiding any contact with other people. We took an elevator to the top floor. He pulled me out of the elevator and up a short flight of stairs and out onto the roof. The dark sky was clear and sparkling with stars. White, twinkling lights had been strung around the roof border and white votive candles dotted the roof floor. A large picnic blanket was spread in the middle and was covered with a cornucopia of finger foods and delicacies. Soulful jazz played quietly from a sound system in the corner. I stood, amazed, as B.E. wrapped a wooly sweater around me.

"You did this?" I asked, in shock. "When?"

"After you wrecked my office and alienated two of my staff, I found it useful to be absent. Kind of scary, don't you think?" he laughed. "You don't feel nauseated, do you?"

I elbowed him in the ribs.

"I take it Alabama women are a tad on the violent side."


	3. Chapter 3: Fruit Salad and Grits

Chapter Three: Fruit Salad and Grits

We were lying on the rooftop, our heads next to each other. He'd had a few beers and seemed a little giddy. I was attempting not to remind him I didn't have an IV. Out of the blue he said, "Don't think I don't know you're still spotting."

"What are you doing, going through my garbage? You really need a hobby, Blue Eyes."

"Did you get any counseling?"

Some people just insist on picking at scabs. "Of course. I spent some private time with a local evangelical preacher-man. We handled some snakes and spoke in tongues and then, just for good measure, danced some devil dances to heathen rock music. He told me if I'd go down on him I'd be healed."

"Sometimes I just want to give you a good spanking," Blue Eyes sighed.

"We would call that 'a good whippin'."

"And I just bet you'd like it."

I tried to assume a Mona Lisa-like smile.

"Blue Eyes, have you ever been in love?"

He rubbed his hand across his eyes. He took out his pill bottle and swallowed one. "Once."

"What happened?"

"It worked for awhile but not forever. And you?"

"Once. It worked for awhile but not forever."

"Did he look really hot in short skirts and stilettos, too?"

I grinned at him. "Did I say it was a 'he'?"

He groaned and rolled my way; he grabbed me and started tickling me. I pulled my knees against my chest trying to keep him away, but it was no use. I was laughing so hard I made a ridiculous snorting noise. I leaned my head toward my knees and banged B.E.'s head. We both yelped and rolled away from each other.

The surprise of the rush of fluid was almost as intense as the searing pain slicing through my midsection. I twisted sideways into a fetal curl as I felt the scream leaving my lungs. I missed the first day of the fall semester.

For three days I was in and out of consciousness, but I absorbed the arguments through osmosis. Strangely enough, Dr. Blue Eyes was Ulysses's primary champion.

"Goddammit, her cervix is still closed, the fetus is still intact and attached to the uterine wall. She has an infection in her abdomen, people. If we can keep her loaded with antibiotics, she can keep this baby as well as her reproductive organs. He!!, if I have to sew her vagina shut and strap her thighs together, she is not aborting this baby!"

An Australian accent complained, "But she's at high risk. When we first admitted her she had no real interest in continuing the pregnancy anyway. Her white count is climbing and her fever hasn't abated any. Why take such a chance with her life?"

What had ever made me think his hair was anything but stringy and over conditioned? Blue Eyes yelled back, "She can hear you, you wombat abortionist. She wants this baby. She's named him, for Christ's sake. Now go. Leave."

I knew when he was in the room. There were broken bits of whispered conversations just to me: "I hope your rapist was a f#cking genius. I'd hate to think I've got the entire hospital on my back for a kid with the IQ of a duck;" and, "Tiger, you've got to start fighting, too. Ulysses is tough, but he can't do it for both of you. It's time for you to wake up;" and the last words I remember, "Come on, Audra, I can't do this one by myself. Ulysses and I, we need your help. He!!, I need you."

Sunshine so yellow it was painful flooded my room when I first remember opening my eyes. Blue Eyes was sitting beside my bed looking into the sunshine. Apparently, he knew I was awake because he was mumbling quietly to me in the form of a mantra, "It's okay, Tiger, Ulysses is okay."

He turned to look at me, and I was startled by his appearance. His normal stubble was longer and unkempt and his heavenly eyes were bloodshot and sunken in bleak hollows. He looked deathly. Sh!t, if he looked that bad, I must be a corpse.

"You've been out for three days," he continued in a monotone. "We've been pumping you full of blood and antibiotics." He looked away from me, back into the sunshine. "It's going to be a long pregnancy and you're going to be lying on your back for most of it, but you're beginning to stabilize now."

"How long have you been sitting here?"

"Should I leave?"

"I almost lost my baby. How does that justify a chip on _your _shoulder?" He was beginning to piss me off.

He turned his face back to look at me and his eyes were tearing. "I know its your baby, but I want it to live, too."

I cringed. Dr. Blue Eyes admitted to an emotional attachment – where were the lightening bolts and plagues of locusts?

"Shouldn't you let your family know what's been going on?"

"When I'm sure Ulysses is safe I'll let my brother know. He'll be so excited and completely disbelieving at the prospect of a niece or nephew. He's so damm much like you."

He raised his eyebrows with the glimmer of his old bravado. "He's a brilliant doctor?"

"No, smart ss, he's a brilliant cripple." I always felt enormous satisfaction when I could catch him speechless.

I begged and whined and wheedled to go home. Dr. Jacobs brought me a laptop allowing me to teach one online course. I was horribly bored when I wasn't asleep, but they were trying their best to accommodate my limitations. Blue Eyes made an irritated face every time he entered my room and saw me typing on the computer. He sat down beside me one day and opened his mouth in what very well may have been a friendly exchange, but I was not feeling friendly.

"Are you just jealous of the computer, or is it that I have actual students who worship me, sort of like your three sucklings?"

"I am not jealous, and of course 18-year-olds worship you – they've never freaking met you. Once they hear that accent their hero worship will disappear."

I threw a book at him; granted, it was David Storey's play, _In Celebration_, so it was lightweight, but it was a book I wanted to keep. "I want out of here. I want to go home. Is it like checking out of a motel?"

"Although I'm sure you've had plenty of practice doing that, no, it's not like checking out of a motel. I have to release your still weakened ass. And I'm not comfortable sending you and the sprout to that apartment."

I bristled. "What's wrong with my apartment?"

"Nothing if you want to up your chances of being raped again."

"I haven't ruled out the possibility of having another child."

He became quite cross then. He stood up and leaned very close to my face. "If you are ever harmed again, I will have to hunt down and kill the person who does it, and then I will find you and punish you severely for your risky and unsafe behavior. And I'm being neither suggestive nor kinky."

I slid down in my bed. "You have really bad breath."

"Arrgh," he growled and walked out.

Dr. Wilson had taken to wandering by at unexpected moments and loitering in my doorway until he caught my eye. I always motioned him in. One day he brought a large container of fruit that had me salivating instantaneously.

"I have some homemade salad – I can't eat it all – I thought it might be better than the swill they feed you. Would you like some?"

Dr. Wilson, you know the way to my heart is through my stomach. Please, have a seat."

He divvied up the food and settled next to me. "How are you feeling, Audra?"

"Still tired and ready to get out of bed. Blue Eyes isn't going to discharge me, is he?"

Dr. Wilson laughed. "He has to sometime. We're worried about you living alone."

I studied the doctor's handsome face. "Do you live alone, Dr. Wilson?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Audra, but I'm not in the midst of a tenuous pregnancy, and I'm certainly not Greg House's patient."

"Okay," I started, "let's get me a new doctor. Isn't it time I had an obstetrician? He's not planning to deliver Ulysses, is he?"

"Actually, as possessive as he's been about your care, he may very well be planning to. You might want to address that with him."

I grimaced at Dr. Wilson and swallowed a very sweet bite of cantaloupe. "Gird my loins for battle."

He chuckled. "Would you give me a heads up when you plan to bring it up so I can be within hearing range?"

"Dr. Wilson, you have a naughty streak, don't you?"

He smiled his genuine smile; his genuine smile reached all the way to his coffee-colored eyes. "I have been married three times, Audra."

I nodded. "You're a wanderer, aren't you, Dr. Wilson?"

"Wanderer?"

"My ex-boyfriend was a wanderer. He was always susceptible to the sweet nothings and the naughty somethings of a new woman. He was messing with a married next door neighbor and I got wind of it. I was none too pleased. I took grass killer and wrote 'Bitch in Heat' in the lady's front yard. You could read it from the street."

Dr. Wilson was laughing so hard I was worried he'd aspirate his lunch.

"Of course, they moved in together the next week."

"You live a passionate life, Audra."

"Dr. Wilson, it sounds as though you've had your own share of passionate events."

He considered me for a minute. "It's probably time you called me Jim."

Of course, Blue Eyes knew all about my intentions before I had even formulated a game plan. He was being pressured to discharge me; Jim said his creative powers were being tested just to keep me inpatient. In the dark morning hours of a Saturday, he limped in and looked surprised to find me awake.

"Not sleeping?"

"I was waiting on you. You do have food with you, right?" I couldn't see any bags or containers.

"Actually, I thought I'd sneak you out for breakfast." He reached under his shirt and pulled out a pair of my jeans and my Auburn University sweatshirt.

"Leave the hospital? Are you sh!tting me?"

He grinned and shook his head. "I'll have to take out your IV. We are _not_ taking that pole with us."

While he was taping up my arm I pestered him with questions. "Where are we going? I haven't been out of here in weeks. Is it in walking distance?"

"It's in riding distance. Do you want me to help you change?"

"Perv," I muttered as I gingerly made my way to the bathroom.

"Prude," I hear him retort.

The sweatshirt felt soft and familiar on my skin. The jeans were snug at my waist. Ulysses already? Damm.

"Will you help me with my shoes," I whined when I sat back on the bed.

"Of course, Ms. Primadonna," he answered, but he put the Nikes on my feet and tied them.

"My jeans are snug. Is it Ulysses?"

"It's probably all of Wilson's gourmet food you've been eating."

"You're just jealous."

"Of course I'm jealous. I used to get all of his leftovers." He stood up and looked me over. "Can you walk downstairs, or do we need a wheelchair."

I puffed out my chest and said I could walk.

When we reached the parking lot we stopped before a motorcycle.

"I'm riding this?" I asked anxiously.

"No, Ms. English101, we're riding this." He climbed on the bike and motioned for me to climb on behind him.

When I settled on the back of the bike, he turned and shoved an orange helmet on my head. "Did you buy this just for me?"

"I can't hear you," he said as he revved the engine and we started out. I felt exposed and vulnerable. I wrapped my arms even more tightly around his waist and held my breath until we came to stop in front of an apartment building.

He casually pulled me inside the ground floor apartment which was obviously his. The baby grand piano was a dead give away.

"Breakfast?" I asked.

He pointed down the hall to the kitchen. The refrigerator was freshly stocked as were the cabinets. I started cooking. He started playing the piano."

What is this stuff?" he asked with an upturned nose. We were sitting around the kitchen table.

"Grits. Have some. They're good for you."

He sniffed the bowl. "It's gravel."

I sighed. "Hand me your plate."

He made a face as he passed his empty plate to me. I gave him a large helping of grits with butter, salt, and pepper, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hot water cornbread. "The grits turn to wallpaper paste if they get too cold," I warned him.

He took a small forkful of the grits, swished them around in his mouth, then made a gagging sound. I raised my right arm. He swallowed them.

"How cold is too cold?"

I growled.

"It's gravel."

"Why did you buy them if you didn't want me to cook them?"

"I thought they were food."

"When they get good and cold, grits are good for spackling."

He coughed and hacked like he was trying to get up a fur ball. I slapped his shoulder. "You were supposed to provide breakfast anyway."

I took my dishes to the sink.

"I thought southern women were supposed to be fabulous cooks."

"You heard it wrong," I told him as he brought his dishes over. "Southern women are fabulous lovers."

"Is that what you learned at your grandfather's whorehouse?"

"Actually, he said they just sat around the piano and sang."

Blue Eyes moved a little closer to me. "In case you didn't notice, I have a piano."

"In case you didn't notice, I have a bony right fist."

He moved a little bit closer. "If I remember correctly, the last time you tried to punch me, you missed."

I leaned a little closer to him. "Blue Eyes, I've since had time to calculate the correction factor."


	4. Chapter 4: She Lands One

Chapter Four: She Lands One

The phone started ringing. I turned on the water and began washing dishes. The grits-hater lumbered, grumbling, into the other room. While I scrubbed and cleaned I went through my finances; I wasn't able to teach the full load I had anticipated, so my income had almost disappeared. Fortunately, my ex-husband had committed to paying the COBRA for my health insurance, so the hospital's bills shouldn't be too crippling. My grandfather had bequeathed me a healthy portfolio when he died, so I had the financial resources to survive the year of pseudo convalescence if I was careful and my stockbroker was clever. I had just finished putting things away when Blue Eyes came back into the kitchen. He was ashen.

"The grits not agreeing with you?"

He motioned towards the other room. "The phone. My old girlfriend." His face was blank.

"She has some good radar. Does she call every time a woman is in your apartment?"

He coughed uncomfortably. "I have to go see her. You need to get off your feet. Why don't you rest here, on the couch, and I'll take you to the hospital when I get back."

I started to suggest I just return to my apartment and skip the hospital altogether, but he was beginning to look ill. I backed up a little. "Do you need to throw up or something?"

He rubbed his hands through his hair and absently took one of his pills, dry swallowing it. "Yeah. I'll be back."

I watched as he, trance-like, picked up his jacket and left. I had one of those devilish urges again; I went to the phone and checked the caller ID. The name was Stacy Warner. I dialed it.

"Hello?" a very elegant voice answered.

In my best southern belle drawl, I said, "Stacy, Greg wanted me to call you and let you know he's on his way." I laughed in as lilting a voice as I could fake. "This

morning sickness keeps cropping up at the most inopportune times."

There was an awkward silence. I just waited.

Finally, I heard her sigh. "Well, thank you for letting me know."

"You're certainly welcome, honey," I cheerfully answered. Somehow, calling her hadn't been as much fun as I had anticipated.

I sat down on Blue Eyes' leather couch and covered up with a blanket. I put the TV on ESPN in hopes of SEC football, but I promptly fell asleep. A repetitive whacking on my leg woke me up.

"Why are you poking me with your stick?"

"Why did you call Stacy?"

"Oh." I sat up. "Did I get you in trouble?"

He plopped down next to me and popped two of his pills in his mouth. "She can't make up her mind what she wants."

"What she wants or who she wants?" He screwed up his face in confusion. "I teach English – is she wanting inanimate objects or people?"

"Men, plural"

"Then the relative pronoun would be 'who'."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem, Blue Eyes."

We sat in an uneasy silence until I could stand it no longer. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm getting the feeling Stacy wants you again."

He laid his head back against the couch. "She's separated from her husband. She wants us to 'date.'" He got up and poured a generous serving of scotch in a glass and then sat back down. "How can I date a woman I lived with and loved for five years? I don't know how to date."

"I might be nitpicking here, but is she legally separated from her husband, because, in Alabama, married women who date are subject to public ridicule and wholesale humiliation."

"You're worried about what society thinks, and I'm worried about how I start back at Basic Dating 101. We have totally different operating systems."

"First, Blue Eyes, I don't really care what society thinks; however, I was pointing out that some societies actively torture those they deem deserving of torture. Secondly, in response to our having different operating systems, DUH!"

B.E. emptied his glass and refilled it, bringing the bottle back with him. I saw my opportunities to escape to my apartment or even the hospital sliding down his throat with the scotch.

"So, you're telling me you want to date her?"

He started flipping through the television channels. "A couple of years ago we tried to reconnect. I sent her away."

"And that would be because . . ."

"I told her I couldn't make her happy."

He paused on the QVC channel. Were we shopping?

"But you don't believe that, Blue Eyes."

"Who made you so f#cking smart?" He had another glass of scotch in his hands.

"Then look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong."

He looked me in the eyes and belched.

"What's Jim's number?"

"Why?" he asked.

"I thought I'd get him to drive me back to the hospital." And babysit you, I thought.

"Oh, you've got the oncologist itch now."

I stood. "Shut up." I went to his phone and again searched through his caller ID. Finally, I found Jim's number.

"Sure," he said growing exponentially louder, "call ole Jimmy-boy. He just loves consoling sick, screwed up women. He'd probably marry you and tell everyone the rapist's baby was his. Everyone knows his favorite words are, 'I do' and 'I obey.'"

Jim answered and I carried the phone into the kitchen.

"This is Audra. I'm at Dr. House's apartment. To make a long story short, he's had an upsetting day and is no longer sober enough to drive me home. If you're not busy, could I impose on you to come get me?"

"What happened, Audra? Are you all right?" He sounded sincerely concerned.

"The old girlfriend called. Stacy? She wants to get back with Blue Eyes. He's tormenting himself over it."

"His Achilles' heel. I'll be right there."

I heard Blue Eyes clomping after me as I hung up the phone. "Is Oncology Boy coming to save you from the big, bad doctor?" He had a glass of scotch in his hand.

"Go sit down, sugar," I told him gently.

"Don't patronize me," he sneered.

I pushed past him heading for the front door, but he grabbed my arm. I swung around and punched him in the jaw.

"F#ck, that hurt!" I yelled. I tried to jam my whole fist into my mouth.

He stumbled back against the kitchen table.

Jim had just been opening the door when he heard the skirmish, so he ran to the kitchen in time to see Blue Eyes clasping his cheek.

"What . . ." he started.

"You can mother him later. Please take me home first," I pleaded as I leaned into his arms.

Jim helped me to his car. He reluctantly agreed to take me to my apartment. I'm sure he was anxious to deposit me somewhere, anywhere, so he could go back to Blue Eyes, and I was unscrupulous enough to take advantage of his indecision. I struggled into my low-rent apartment and crawled between the covers of my make-do futon. I slept for fifteen hours straight.

I had to go back to the hospital. My cell phone was there along with the university's laptop. I hadn't been officially discharged, and I needed a referral to an obstetrician. I decided to just brazen my way through the inevitable encounter with Blue Eyes.

I made it to the hospital by 8 am Monday morning in my Toyota Tacoma (yeah, I drive an old truck). It was stripped down and well-aged, but the passenger seat looked roomy enough for a baby seat. I left it in the guest parking garage and found the information desk in the hospital lobby. They gave me directions to Blue Eyes' department. I recognized the conference area outside his office when I reached it. His office door was locked, but there was a doctor I didn't recognize in the larger room. I went in hesitantly.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" the doctor asked. He was standing by a coffee pot fiddling with the filter.

"I'm Audra Jeffrey. I was a patient of Dr. House's."

The doctor nodded and offered his hand. "Of course. I'm Dr. Foreman."

"I'm pleased to meet you." I had morphed into Miss Manners. "I left the hospital over the weekend, and I need to get my things."

"Have you checked at the nurse's station on the floor you were on?"

I pointed at a small pile in the corner of Blue Eyes' locked office. "That's my laptop, or Princeton's laptop, which I need since it's my only internet access and I have to update the assignments for my online class. The gym bag isn't mine, but the clothes, books, cd, and purse inside it are mine. Could you please get them? You'll find my ID inside the purse."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Jeffrey, but Dr. House isn't in yet and his office is locked."

"Yes, I noticed that when I tried to open his door."

We continued staring at each other. Finally, I took the coffee filter, which he had shredded, from him and started making the coffee from scratch. I began chattering in my 'helpless girl' voice.

"I need to have Dr. House arrange a referral with an obstetrician. Could you recommend someone? I just moved here right before I got sick and I don't know a soul."

"There are several excellent doctors who have experience with at risk pregnancies." He wasn't warming up to me at all.

"Dr. Foreman, you may think this is a silly peccadillo of mine, but after, uh, everything that's gone on, the circumstances, and, well, I think I'd probably have an easier time relating to a female physician. I'm not yet comfortable with, well, the whole being pregnant situation, and I thought, perhaps, you could suggest an especially empathetic female obstetrician. Maybe one who has some experience with rape victims." I couldn't look at him, so I busied myself tidying up the coffee detritus. I hoped I sounded needy enough.

"Dr. Angela Castillo has worked with rape victims through the university's counseling center."

"She sounds ideal! You have been so helpful – you can schedule my consult on any day at any time." I looked, pointedly, at my watch. "Oh, goodness, I'm supposed to meet my department chair in five minutes. He's going to blow a gasket if I don't have their laptop. Isn't there any way I could get it? I wouldn't mind waiting for Dr. House, but I'm already in disfavor because of all the time I've been ill." I gave him the sweetest smile I owned.

I could see him wavering. The coffee started dripping; he looked at the pot, sighed, and pulled a key off the top of a bookcase. He retrieved the gym bag and the laptop.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Foreman. I don't know what I would have done without your help. And please, call the cell number in my chart when you have my appointment arranged."

I slipped into the hall and rushed to the elevator while giving the confused doctor a dainty wave. Of course, I didn't have to meet with Dr. Jacobs, but Dr. Foreman didn't need to know that. I wondered if he would follow through with the obstetrician.

When the elevator doors opened I tried to turn around and run, but Jim grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.

"Good morning, Audra."

I sighed. "Go ahead. Tell me about Blue Eyes." I closed my eyes to listen.

"He has a nice bruise on his left jaw. How's your hand?"

"I don't know; I haven't hit anyone today. Yet. Did you instruct B.E. on courtship for cretins?"

"Instructing House is an oxymoron."

I laughed. I really did like Jim. "I'm sorry I involved you in, well, that. I didn't know what else to do."

Jim sighed. We had reached the lobby and were slowly walking toward the front doors. "House's history with Stacy is complicated."

"You mean Stacy isn't the double jointed hermaphrodite he told me about? Come on, Jim, she had him so rattled he didn't know what to do. And even_ I_ know Blue Eyes _always_ knows what to do." We had come to a stop. "I understand a woman being conflicted about her feelings, especially when she wasn't the one who ended things the last time, but to pit two men against each other in some kind of dating duel is egotistical and demeaning. And the amazing thing is that I have no doubt both men will sign on for the competition."

"You think she's just being intentionally spiteful?"

"Jim, I don't know her. But I'd be willing to bet she has Blue Eyes planning romantic dinners and sentimental gifts and, he!!, I'd even bet he comes in today in an ironed shirt with a coordinating tie. He's competitive anyway, and she's just signed him up for the ultimate challenge: win me back from my husband. How could he pass it up?"

"I don't know how much you know, but the truth is, he already won her back from her husband before, and he still sent her away."

"Maybe, if he wins this time, he'll keep her." I smiled wanly at him, lifted my hand in a mock wave, and headed for my truck.

Back in my apartment, I elevated my feet and checked my e-mail. I had a message from Dr. Jacobs:

Dear Audra,

I know you're on bed rest, but I also know you haven't had time to meet any of our other instructors. If you are able, the Liberal Arts Department is planning a Meet and Greet for new and returning instructors Friday, 8pm, at Chastain House. I would enjoy introducing you to our outstanding faculty. Please let me know if I can do anything to assist you.

Joel Jacobs

A Meet and Greet. How Ivy League. At Auburn we'd just get a keg and a game of Twister. Something told me my cut-off overalls and Mickey Mouse t-shirt weren't going to make the grade.

Remaining prone was easier than I had anticipated largely because I became fatigued so easily. Dr. Castillo's office called me on Wednesday and scheduled my appointment for the following Monday; Dr. Foreman came through after all. I agonized over the Friday evening soiree and the appropriate attire. I was past my first trimester with a rounded pooch I desperately wanted to disguise. My limited wardrobe contained a winter white sheath dress I was able to slide into. If one looked closely from the side, Ulysses's bulge was evident, but I decided it was the best I was going to look. My high-heeled, black, f#ck-me-pumps made my ass stick out and minimized any attention given to my stomach. I pulled my curly blonde hair into a high ponytail and just let it go. For an old, weary pregnant woman, I didn't look half bad.

Chastain House had been a palatial home in the nineteenth century. The university used it for social functions and public relations events and the odd office space for positions not easily categorized. I entered the marbled lobby with several other awed-looking geek-types and immediately spied Dr. Jacobs and a petite redhead I assumed was his wife. They gathered me in with much handshaking and laughing.

"You look lovely, Audra. Not at all like someone who's barely allowed out of bed. We're so delighted you could come. This is my wife, Terri Jacobs," Dr. Jacobs chattered rapid fire. His face was flushed; I think he had been sampling the wines.

Terri hugged me enthusiastically. "You poor darling. Joel's told me all about your ordeal. He's been so worried about you. You must be so frustrated to have to delay the beginning of your doctoral work. Joel has been bragging about your work with the British dramatists, especially Pinter."

Damm, she talked even faster than he did, and she wanted to talk about Pinter. I think they intended to be encouraging. Dozens and dozens of people bumped and moved through the rooms of the elaborately decorated building. The Jacobses led me into a drawing room and we picked through a table laden with food. I declined anything alcoholic from the bar, but both of my escorts accepted refills of their drinks. I felt the stiffness in the muscles of my cheeks; I hadn't smiled so broadly for so long since before my divorce. I was introduced to the head of the Creative Writing Program and a tasty-looking young man who was also an instructor in something and a doctoral student in something with a name I never caught. He was dangerously young and kept smiling at me with the kind of eyes that follow one around the room without ever moving.

Joel and Terri became embroiled in a heated debate about the originality, or lack of originality, of great literature, and I slipped into a hallway and found an empty settee. I settled in comfortably only to realize I had failed to notice a man was sitting on the adjoining settee.

"I'm sorry – am I disturbing you?"

He smiled. "Not at all. I'm here with my wife and just thought I'd escape the introductions for a moment."

"That's a shame because I was going to tell you I am Audra."

He laughed. "I am pleased to meet you, Audra."

"Is your wife a new instructor here?" I asked.

"Yes. She's teaching politics. She's a lawyer."

I brightened. "My brother's a lawyer. Where did she get her J.D.?

"George Washington University."

I was shocked. "This is amazing. My brother graduated there last spring. In fact, he loved DC so much he took a job there. What a small world."

A slender, brunette woman in a royal blue cocktail dress walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at her, reached for a pair of Lofstran crutches leaning against the arm of the settee, and stood up with their aid.

"How has the meeting and greeting been going, honey?" he asked her.

"I think I'm about meeted and greeted out," she answered with a perfect smile on her perfect face.

The man said, "I'm sure you can stand one more introduction. This," and he indicated me, "is Audra. Audra, this is my wife, Stacy Warner."

I was in the process of standing when the name registered. I hesitated and said, "Succubus."

"Pardon?" she said as she stepped forward to shake my hand.

There was no way I could hide my accent. I started coughing violently. "I'm sorry I must have swallowed something . . ." I said, hacking and choking. I waved my hand and stumbled off as if I would find an EMT to perform a tracheotomy just inside the next room.

As soon as I made it into a crowd of tipsy graduate teaching assistants, I peered behind me to see if the Warners had followed me. I appeared to be safe. So, that was Stacy. And she had a date with her husband tonight. And he was using crutches. Did she have a thing for cripples? I should hook her up with my brother – no, my brother was too much fun. She looked, well, tight. Or tightly wrapped. And she also worked at Princeton. My life was just getting better and better.

"Things are getting pretty boring here," the attractive young man whose name I never heard said from behind me.

I turned around too quickly and grabbed his arm for balance. "Sorry, I'm lightheaded."

"Too much wine?" he asked with a leering sort of smile.

"No, I don't drink. I'm sorry, but I never caught your name."

He couldn't have been over twenty-five. "I'm teaching developmental English. You're working with the British dramatists, aren't you?"

"Only the contemporary ones. Not so much the deceased playwrights."

"I'm just fascinated with American dialects. I could listen to you talk all night."

He had left me speechless with that remark, but he was, fortunately, entertaining to watch. His teeth were white and straight with just the slightest of overbites. He had several piercings in his ears and, it seemed, an orange ball in the middle of his tongue. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

"How would you like to go listen to some music and talk? I know a place with a great jazz pianist."

I wasn't normally one to go off with a young man whose name I didn't know, but I had been hypnotized by his tongue. Besides, I figured I could meet him there since I was driving my truck.

I followed the tongue guy to a small club on a very dark street. I guess I should have been more cautious after my experience in the azaleas, but I was preoccupied with meeting Blue Eyes' old girlfriend and her husband, plus I hadn't yet really seen much of Princeton except for the hospital and my apartment. When I got out of my truck, tongue guy was waiting.

"Have you read much in southern dialect? The Uncle Remus stories, _Legends of the Old Plantation_, are written in authentic nineteenth century southern dialect, although Walt Disney completely bastardized it."

"And thank god. That dialect is unreadable."

We entered the crowded club through a short, narrow vestibule. Tongue guy paid the cover charge for both of us. We found seats against a side wall at a small, cluttered table. I motioned at a waiter and he cleared the bottles. Tongue guy asked for a Guinness while I asked for a glass of water. The pianist was on break which meant I had to endure more of tongue guy's grilling.

"Do you not feel Joel Chandler Harris's re-creation of the southern dialect was accurate?"

Screw the dialect and the author who recreated it. "I'm not sure how accurate the re-creation of a dialect of talking animals could be."

As the waiter delivered our drinks and tongue guy was paying for his Guinness, someone moved around me with a chair.

"Aren't you a little overdressed for a dingy college club?"

Blue Eyes was sitting in front of me and Jim was standing behind him. Tongue guy was stuttering on the other side of the table.

"Blue Eyes, this is tongue guy who is obsessed with southern dialects. Tongue guy, this is Blue Eyes, an obnoxious doctor, and Jim Wilson, Oncology Boy." I had entered comic-book-land.

Jim shook hands with tongue guy. Blue Eyes kept staring at me. "Does tongue guy know you're pregnant with Ulysses?"

"You're pregnant? Aren't you too old to get pregnant?"

I turned to tongue guy. "Give Oncology Boy your seat. Now." Tongue guy moved rather hurriedly.

Jim took the vacated seat. "Oncology Boy?"

"That's what Ms. Break-and-enter calls you when she fantasizes about you," Blue Eyes said, still staring at me.

"Don't make me punch you again."

He didn't flinch. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

I moved to stand. "Yes, thank you for reminding me. Jim, it was nice to see you again."

Jim hopped up. "Let me walk you out."

Blue Eyes stood, too, and started to follow us. Jim looked at him and ordered, "House, stay."

Blue Eyes stopped.

Jim and I stepped out into the autumn night. "How are you, Audra?"

"Jim, I'm going to tell you something, but I think it probably needs to stay between us."

"Okay."

"I saw Stacy tonight. Apparently she's now teaching at Princeton. Politics. But I saw her with her husband. I mean, he introduced her as his wife. If Blue Eyes is dating her, I hope he's aware she's also dating her husband."

We reached my truck. Jim looked at his feet while I floundered for my keys. "I'm not asking you to tell me what he's doing – but I don't want him to be hurt."

"Were you really out with tongue guy?"

"Only until I realized he could talk."


	5. Chapter 5: Sleeping with Rachel Ray

Chapter Five: Sleeping with Rachel Ray

I hadn't been in my apartment more than twenty minutes when I heard the front door bang open. "Hey, Idiot."

"Bathroon," I called while I finished brushing my teeth.

You live alone in the roughest college neighborhood, and you leave your f#cking door unlocked?" he bellowed as he tromped right on into the bathroom.

had on my granny panties and a Santana t-shirt. He stared at Ulysses's pooch.

"It's after midnight. What did you do with Jim, because if he's coming in here after you, it's going to get awfully crowded."

"I had him drop me off. I didn't know you liked Santana."

I made a move to leave the bathroom, but he continued to block the doorway. "I saw him in concert when he was in his audience un-appreciation phase. He performed the whole set with his back to the auditorium. But he sounded good. Do you need to pee or something?"

"Are you interested in Wilson?"

I laughed. "As what?"

"As a man. Stop that."

"I think Jim is a very attractive, interesting, lovable person. He!!, he puts up with your nonsense. And I hope we are friends. But would I want to date him? I don't think we'd mesh well. I think I'd scare him to death. Why are you asking me this?"

He looked sheepish. "He walked you to your car."

"He's chivalrous."

"You never get angry at him."

I thought, just for an instant, he was pouting. "And you think that's a plus?"

"I've never had a woman punch me before. Slap me, but not full-on punch me."

"You were drunk and offensive. Besides, it's not like we were dating." We stared at each other. "Were we?"

He shook his head. "Of course not – you're pregnant. Who would want to date you? Even the tongue guy found the prospect laughable."

"I wouldn't place much trust in the judgment of a man who thinks the significance of the retelling of traditional African American folktales is the representation of the _dialect_. Are you attempting to hold me hostage in this bathroom?"

"You're pissed at me now."

I was. "Why are you here? Did you stop by just to make sure I knew no men would be interested in me for more than a – what – a woman to rape? Was that your goal?"

He stepped backwards and out of the doorway. I slipped past him and sat cross-legged on my futon, cradling my pillow in my lap. I no longer felt like playing with him.

B.E. went to my refrigerator and brought two bottles of water over to me. He opened one and handed it to me. He looked like he wanted to sit beside me, but he pulled up my desk chair and used it instead. I handed him the remote control; he turned on the tv and contentedly flipped through the channels.

"What do you have, an abbreviated satellite dish?" he grumpily asked as he swallowed one of his pills.

"I'm poor. I have basic cable. Suck it up."

"How is Ulysses?"

"Requiring ten or twelve hours of sleep a night."

"You look pregnant."

"Gee, Blue Eyes, you're just full of compliments tonight."

"Why don't you go to sleep while I watch some tv."

"You like Rachel Ray?"

"I find her pert and perky," he said as he leaned over and pulled the blankets over me and turned off the bedside light.

I tried to watch Rachel with him, I really did. I tried not to ask, but I just couldn't resist. "How's Dating 101 going?"

He grunted. "Don't you have any alcohol here?"

"Preggers," I answered, pointing to my bulge.

"She won't let me get too close to her."

"Do you mean emotionally or physically?"

B.E. snorted. "Physically, Tiger. What else?"

"As the untouchable woman, it's hard for me to surmise what your goal with your old girlfriend is."

Rachel rattled on for a few minutes before B.E. said, very quietly, "You're not untouchable."

My eyes had begun to close when I felt him slide over onto the futon (on top of the blankets) beside me. He turned on his left side, rubbing his right thigh, and then draped his right arm across my waist. I froze, afraid and curious, but his breathing soon deepened into a rhythmic, soothing hum. He was sound asleep. Ulysses and I listened to that hum long past daybreak.

He jerked his head sharply several times, as in a bad dream, before rolling over to sit on the edge of the futon. It was around eight. He took a couple of his pills and then used his cane to hobble to the bathroom. I watched him. His hair was tousled and his face had the sleepy look of a young child who'd been awakened too early. He hummed in the bathroom while peeing. When he came out of the bathroom, he scratched his ss, yawned, and appeared uncertain of what to do. Finally, he shrugged and climbed back onto the futon.

"Just make yourself at home," I grumbled.

"Ummmm." He wormed his feet under the blankets. "Give. I'm cold."

"You could go home."

"I'm protecting you from crack addicts looking for money," he said as he scooted lower. I felt his feet wiggling around until they rubbed against mine.

"Yeah, Blue Eyes, the neighborhood crack addicts all know they can support their habits on the cash hidden in my futon."

His forehead burrowed into my pillow and proceeded to push my head off. "You're much nicer to cuddle with when you're asleep, Big Mama," he said as he placed his palm on Ulysses's pooch.

"No comment on how unattractively pregnant I'm getting?"

"You're pregnant, Big Mama, but not unattractive. Especially not when you're asleep."

A buzzing sound elicited a groan from Blue Eyes. He sat up, fumbled through his pockets until he found his cell phone, checked the number, then put it away.

"Hospital?" I asked.

"No," he answered as he got up and searched for his coat. "Old girlfriend."

"And you didn't answer? Shame, shame."

"If I call her with your big mouth in the background I'll never get her naked."

I missed Blue Eyes the rest of the day. The harder I tried to read my research on Simon Gray, the more I thought about him jumping at Stacy's call. My conclusions weren't happy ones, but I was, plain and simply, jealous. She had already had two bites at the apple and was working on her third. And she was juggling her husband as well. How did one woman possess so much appeal? Of course, she wasn't lumbering around with a tadpole swimming inside her.

My appointment with Dr. Castillo late Monday evening started off well. She had read through my file and knew of the difficulties I had had a month earlier, and she was indeed knowledgeable about women who had been victimized. She performed another sonogram; I could barely discern a modicum of growth, but she said Ulysses looked fine. She estimated him to be in his fourteenth week with a due date the middle of March. I would have left her office with an elated but slightly lonely feeling had she not told me, as she handed me the prescriptions for prenatal vitamins and an iron supplement along with an order to continue on bed rest, that Dr. House would be copied on all of her notes.

"He is, of course, still your doctor."

I stopped cold. "What?"

Dr. Castillo seemed surprised. "Dr. House is listed as your primary physician, and, as such, he has requested I copy him on everything."

"Doesn't this violate the privacy laws, or good taste . . ."

"Audra, I took your case as a favor to Dr. House. If you have a problem with this, you need to take it up with him." She gave me a placating smile and escaped to another patient.

Blue Eyes had me imprisoned. I had intended to find my truck and just go home, but it didn't work out that way. As I wended my way to the parking garage, I found myself in the hallway leading to Blue Eyes' office. It was after six; his office was lit but locked. I kicked his door a couple of times just to vent my frustrations. I remembered him buying curry and having me escorted to his office before I barfed on Dr. Cameron's shoes. I also remembered the picnic on the rooftop. The stairwell wasn't far down the hall, so I climbed all the way up. The door to the roof was propped open with an empty wine bottle and I could hear a voice, so I stood back and peeped through.

The sun was just beginning to set. The lights I thought Blue Eyes had strung around the roof specifically for me were still there and were aglow. I couldn't see anyone, but it didn't take long to recognize the soft voice.

"What am I doing competing with Mark? Again?"

There was a noise, the sound of feet scuffling. I moved away from the door in case they were leaving, but he started talking again.

"It's agonizing, this. I'm never where I want to be."

The sounds of stumbling and a toppling pot sent me back down the stairwell. I hadn't needed to hear him pleading with Stacy; I dammed sure didn't want to watch it. As I hurried through the lobby I ran squarely into Jim.

"Audra, whoa, how are you?"

"Jim," I gasped. "Jim, I just had my, uh, first appointment with Dr. Castillo. I had a sonogram of Ulysses. Listen, do you have plans this evening?"

He shifted uncomfortably, not answering.

"It's just, I haven't eaten all day, and I was wondering if you'd like to have a bite? But if it's not convenient . . ."

"No, I mean, sure, that would be good. I just need to stop by my office first. Do you want to go with me?" He held his arm out for me to precede him.

I didn't want to remain standing in the middle of the lobby where I could encounter Blue Eyes and Stacy passing by in post-coital companionship. "Sure, yes, your office. Yes."

We began to walk back towards the elevators. "You seem a bit flustered. Was everything all right with your appointment?"

"Aside from my being held as a patient of Blue Eyes in perpetuity, everything was just fine."

We made it out of the elevator and into his office safely. While Jim hurried through some papers, I looked out his window, across the patio and straight into the office of Blue Eyes. Bloody he!!. I turned back to Jim and started to stumble through another attempt at escaping the hospital when the office door opened.

"Pizza or Korean tonight?" Blue Eyes asked Jim without noticing me.

I peeped around him. Where was Stacy?

Jim looked up from his desk with the pallor of a man facing death, or someone's death. "House, I, well . . ." and he gestured to me.

Blue Eyes turned. "Big Mama! Small world. Small office. Is Jimmy here scheduling exams in his office now?"

If I left, would I run into Stacy exiting the restroom? Surely she was going to dinner with them. No wonder Jim had been so hesitant. I realized I hadn't insulted Blue Eyes and both men were staring at me.

"Oh, sorry. My bad. Blue Eyes, the only one who gets to examine me these days is Dr. Castillo, but you'll be hearing all about _that_. And you're not the only one who's never where he wants to be."

I could feel the tears stinging just behind my eyelids. "Move," I croaked as I tried to shove my way past B.E.

"Wait, Audra," Jim cried as he came from behind his desk.

Blue Eyes clamped his big left hand around my right forearm. "Let me go," I whispered tersely.

"Not a chance." He pulled me backwards and closed Jim's door behind him, effectively trapping the three of us in a very small, claustrophobic space. "Is there something wrong with Ulysses – and no smart answer." He was leaning close to my ear. No humor in his voice. Jim had retreated a bit.

"Ask Dr. Castillo."

"I will. Now, why are you _here_?"

"I reconsidered about Jim. I was hoping to seduce him over a sandwich in the cafeteria. Do you think I still have a chance now he's heard my plan?"

"That would be a yes," Jim said from behind his desk. He laughed awkwardly.

Blue Eyes said, "I guess she could come with us to watch Roller Derby while we eat. God knows there's nothing good on tv where she lives." He finally stopped staring at me and looked at Jim. "I'll leave my bike here."

"My truck is here."

"Good," B.E. said. "You can drive me home while Wilson picks up the food." He turned back to Jim. "You'd better get pizza in case she's in a puking way."

I peeked up at Jim; he was just shaking his head. "Fine, yeah, whatever."

Blue Eyes and I made it to my truck without his releasing my forearm or uttering a word. Naturally, he wouldn't let me drive. Once on the road, he asked, "What did you mean by that crack about never being where you wanted to be?"

"Nothing."

"You never mean nothing."

"How's Succubus?"

"Huh?"

"Stacy."

He laughed. "She's mastered the clenched-teeth good night kiss. Why, do you want to date her now, too?"

"I don't share well."

I felt his body clench.

We remained quiet until we got to his apartment. B.E. put me on the end of the couch and wrapped me in a blanket. He brought me water and orange juice. When Jim arrived with the food, B.E. loaded my plate and delivered it to me. While we ate and watched large women on roller skates beat the tar out of each other, B.E. pulled my legs up onto the couch with my feet resting in his lap.

During a commercial, B.E. said, "Big Mama, Wilson's Jewish."

"Congratulations, Jim."

"Thanks," Jim answered with a mouth full of pizza and beer.

"Are there any Jews in Alabama?" B.E. asked me.

"Yes. Seven."

"Tell Wilson about your grandfather's entrepreneurial enterprises." Blue Eyes wiggled his eyebrows at me. He had begun massaging my feet.

"You grandfather was an entrepreneur?" Jim asked with well faked interest.

"He was the youngest of eight children and the only boy. Everyone just called him 'Brother.' His family was poor, so he had no chance for any kind of education. He had to help support them. He became a professional gambler."

"In Alabama?" Jim asked, surprised.

"Yep. He had the slot machine concession in northern Alabama. He'd attach metal plates with the name 'Brother' on all his machines and put them out in the general stores. Whenever the officials made a raid, they'd collect the machines without his nameplates, then they'd call him in. He'd pay them off handsomely so they'd give him the confiscated machines. He'd put his nameplates on those, and he'd send them back out to the general stores."

"I bet he pissed off the other slot machine owners," B.E. said.

"Wasn't that illegal?" Jim asked.

"Of course, but so was selling alcohol in dry counties, but that didn't hinder him either."

"He was a bootlegger, too?" Jim asked.

"Poor Oncology Boy," B.E. said. "You've disillusioned him."

"I'm sorry, Jim. My grandfather didn't have many opportunities, and he provided for a large, extended family. He did what he could."

"So, your relatives are all professional gamblers?" B.E. asked.

"My father, his younger child, is a chemical engineer, and my aunt is a crystallographer."

"In Alabama?" Blue Eyes asked incredulously. "In a trailer park?"

I ground my heel into his groin.

"Hey, now," he groused as he pushed my foot away.

Jim made an uneasy, grunting sound as Blue Eyes tussled on the sofa with me. As he pushed one foot out of his lap and farther from his groin area, he succeeded in pulling me closer to him. I started squirming, which caused him to lean toward me and grasp me even more tightly. Just as he pulled my butt into his lap, he slid off the sofa and we both landed in the floor with a blanket woven around us. Jim stepped around us as he made his way out the front door, saying, "Night House. Night Audra."

Things were suddenly too quiet. I was cradled in Blue Eyes' lap, my chest snug against his side as his right arm held me there. I felt him relax and lean against the sofa. His left hand stroked my hair. He pressed my head under his chin. "Is this one of those times when you're not where you want to be?"

Lie, I told myself. He shifted his right leg so my weight was angled on his other thigh. My butt was right on top of his crotch. My left arm was looped around his back. I couldn't resist; I leaned back and looked into his eyes, touching his face with my fingers. "No. And you?"

His hand on my hair tightened and I felt him gripping my head. "This is where I want to be."

I tried not to stop looking into his eyes, but as his face drew closer he closed his and I felt the first touch of his lips on mine. My eyes closed and he pressed into me, pulling my chest up to strain against his and holding my head still as he pulled and sucked on my lips. My mind was unsure, but my body was filled with an excitement and tension I thought I had forever lost. He moved his lips to my ear and whispered, "Just kiss me, Tiger." I started to make some sort of noise, although only a brief groan escaped because his mouth covered mine and his tongue played with mine, and I was just as feverishly stretching my body against his and clasping his head to mine and exploring the saltiness of his mouth as he. I couldn't get close enough to him. I wanted his tongue in my mouth and my tongue in his; I didn't want any separation. And the closer I tried to get to him, the closer he tried to get to me. This was not playful; this was consuming and consumable. This was primal. I made him stop: I grabbed his hair and held his held still and pulled myself away. We were both panting. I got up even though he was reaching for me, trying to put me back on the floor. When I left I couldn't speak; I just shook my head at him.

I had just, with one long, interminable kiss, lost myself in someone else.


	6. Chapter 6: Thanksgiving

Chapter Six: Thanksgiving

I didn't know what to do or where to go when I left. I didn't want to go to my apartment. Eventually, I ended up on the hospital's rooftop. It was completely dark. I located the string of lights and connected them. They twinkled eerily, sadly. The once fairyland of a rooftop was now only vacant with decaying Christmas lights the only beacon into the desolation.

Had the man I had just left, the man I had just been so passionately kissing, really been on this very rooftop earlier in the day with Succubus? Discussing competing with her husband for her affections yet again? Bemoaning his inability to always be with her? Had the passion in his kiss been merely a result of his frustration at her physical denial? Was he just horny? Was I just horny?

I sat down on the chilly rooftop with my back against the wall and rested my hands atop Ulysses. The tears rolled down my cheeks unchecked. The sky was beginning to pinken before I closed the door on the roof.

Life settled into a nice routine. I spent my mornings reclining while servicing my online class and my afternoons reclining while delving into my research, reading plays by Peter Shaffer and Alan Bennett and Tom Stoppard. Dr. Castillo agreed to see me very late on Monday evenings every two weeks; that way, I could get in and out of the hospital with little chance of encountering Blue Eyes. In fact, avoiding him consumed a goodly allowance of my energies.

At my appointment the Monday before Thanksgiving, Dr. Castillo did another sonogram searching to confirm Ulysses's gender, but the sprout kept his back to the camera and refused to budge. On the drive home, I felt the first definite kick and was so excited I came close to wetting myself. I still hadn't told any of my family members of my pregnancy, and I hadn't made any friends within the university because of my confinement, so I had no one with whom to share my elation. I finally decided to call my brother, Greg, and at least talk to him.

I caught him at home. He said he was going to Alabama for Thanksgiving and asked about my plans.

"My department chair, Dr. Jacobs, has invited me for a brunch. Apparently, it's a huge tradition and scores of people will be there."

"Don't get drunk at your boss's party."

"I think that's the same advice I gave _you_ last year," I laughed. Greg was fifteen years my junior and I had been his primary caretaker, so my feelings for him fluctuated between maternal and sisterly.

"Yeah, Cissy, but if I get drunk I'm already sitting down. Plus, I don't have as far to fall as you do." Greg's primary means of ambulation was his wheelchair.

"Quit rubbing it in." He always made me laugh. "Greg, I have a huge favor to ask. Would you come here for Christmas?"

He was quiet for long while. Finally, he started talking and I remembered why I hadn't called him much since moving.

"Too dammed good to come home? Mama's oil spill gravy not gourmet enough for you? Wait, it's not gourmet enough for _me_. Surely you can't be avoiding Daddy's latest fermentation experiments? You were the one raving about his tomato wine before you moved. Something's up. Have you gained thirty pounds and lost all your hair?" I looked down at the growing pooch and winced. "You don't have a Yankee accent yet. Have you forgotten how to form the plural of 'you,' because the answer is ya'll, not 'you guys.' What is it? You're hiding something . . ."

"Greg, just this once, could you let it drop?"

"He!! no. I have an undeniable need to know what is going on with you. You _are_ my big sister even if you have become a Yankee lover."

"You're one to talk. You live in Washington, D.C."

"Cissy, I live in Fairfax, Virginia. V-I-R-G-I-N-I-A. I am a southern boy through and through. You, however, have forsaken your heritage."

"Fine, Greg, but do you think you could forsake your heritage just once and come here for Christmas?" He exasperated me sometimes.

"Are Mama and Daddy coming, too?"

"I certainly hope not."

"What is up? You are being _so_ mysterious and that is _so_ not you. Just spit it out already."

Telling one's little brother you had been raped and impregnated and, in addition, were going to have and keep the baby seemed to be best done in person. Telling the same story to one's parents seemed best left undone altogether.

I had purchased a few articles of maternity clothing at a consignment shop near the neighborhood deli I liked, so I was able to coordinate a long, black skirt with a long-sleeved, full tunic in a brilliant shade of yellow into a suitable ensemble for Thanksgiving brunch. No heels this time, however. Only flats.

Joel and Terri Jacobs lived in an updated bungalow in the historic district. Parking my truck required twenty minutes. The house was overflowing with young and trendy people enshrouded in aromas of cinnamon and vanilla. I moved gingerly through the house until I found Terri cheerfully ladling out hot cider.

"Audra, darling, how are you doing? And the baby – you're showing!" Terri enthused. Hel!!, Terri enthused about everything.

"Can I get some of that cider without the rum?"

"Of course you can," she said as she handed me a cup and sloshed another ladleful onto her table cloth. Terri had obviously been sampling her own concoction. "Joel is in the other room with the food. I think he's refereeing a heated debate about the literary sources for _Hamlet_. You're interested in British dramatists, right?"

"The living ones, yes." I wanted no part of that debate.

"Does that mean you're not a fan of Shakespeare?" a woman behind me asked.

"Is Shakespeare dead? Are you certain? Has anyone checked his Myspce?" I said, turning around to grab the speaker's arm. "If we walk away calmly and confidently, I don't think she'll follow us," I whispered conspiratorially to the woman.

She laughed. "Terri has a lot of holiday cheer."

We had moved into an alcove leading into the dining room when we stopped and I got a look at my rescuer.

"Hi, I'm . . ."

"Succubus," I blurted out. "Er, Stacy Warner."

She tilted her perfect head and narrowed her perfect eyes and asked me in her perfect voice, "Have we met?"

"Yes, we met at the departmental meet-and-greet last month. You were with your hus-"

"Hello," Blue Eyes said as he moved from behind me and took Stacy's arm.

She hastily said, "This is Dr. Greg House. Greg, this is . . ."

"Audra Jeffrey. I know. She's my patient."

Stacy appeared to want to crawl beneath the floorboards. I wanted to complete the sentence I had started. B.E. gave every indication he was pleased as punch we were both uneasy.

"I didn't think you were allowed to tell the world you were my doctor. At least, my psychiatrist always pretends he doesn't know me when we bump into each other in the liquor store," I groused.

"Obviously, you haven't seen him in quite a while," he answered while eyeing Ulysses's lump.

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak Stacy joined in. "Greg, perhaps you and Audra should continue this conversation in private."

Blue Eyes and I locked stares. She really had no idea what she had said. Simultaneously, we both exclaimed a hearty, "No!"

"What?" she asked.

I exhaled and turned earnestly to Stacy. "Dr. Castillo is my obstetrician. Dr. House hasn't served as my physician since the first days of my pregnancy."

"I still oversee Audra's care in conjunction with Dr. Castillo," B.E. insisted.

What was his problem? Asking seemed to be the best plan. "What is your problem, Blue Eyes? I puked on your Nikes and passed out on top of you. Patient. First date. I can understand how you might confuse the behaviors, but we were in the freaking hospital clinic."

"I knew I should have insisted on that psych eval," he muttered.

Stacy's perfect face looked shell-shocked. "Are you two, well?"

"No!" we both shouted.

"I haven't seen Dr. House in over a month. I even schedule my appointments for Monday evenings so I won't run into him."

Stacy narrowed her perfect eyes again and said, "We don't see each other on Mondays. I have classes all day."

"So?" B.E. asked.

But my mouth was wide open and the light bulb inside my brain finally came on. Blue Eyes couldn't have been on the roof with Stacy the evening I thought I heard him repining with her. So, he hadn't been talking to her. He had been then, what, talking to himself? Nothing else was making sense.

Stacy turned her perfect glare to Blue Eyes and asked him in her perfectly angry tone, "What do you do on Monday nights? I thought you spent them with Jim, watching roller derby and eating take-out?"

"I do," he answered.

"Don't feel too guilty," I told him. "At the last departmental party she brought her husband."

I moved into the dining room where a huge table overflowed with food. An English professor I recognized but couldn't name sidled up to me and offered me a plate with tidbits of meats and cheeses. I accepted; since the baby was noticeable, strangers would unexpectedly gift me with surprising niceties. Older women were drawn to Ulysses's lump to pat and stroke and talk to. I had been startled on more than one occasion by an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice babbling at my belly. This professor, although male, had the look of a babbler.

"Thank you for the food. It looks delicious."

"There are some vacant seats over by the patio," he said and gestured towards a recessed nook containing overstuffed chairs in large garden prints.

I nodded and followed him. He was not as tall as Blue Eyes, but he was dark and neat and professorial-looking. I arranged myself in one of the comfy chairs and he took the other. I tried to breathe deeply, and I tried not to scan the rooms for Blue Eyes.

"I'm David Mebane. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you, but if my memory serves me correctly, you were supposed to be an instructor this semester – you're from Auburn, right?"

"Yes. How?"

Before I could finish, he chuckled professorially and motioned for me to eat. "I reviewed your application. In fact, I was the head of the search committee and was supposed to remain as neutral as possible, but I will admit I found your curriculum vitae enviable."

"So I have another reason to thank you: you're easily snowed."

He laughed good-naturedly. "Actually, I am difficult to impress. I've been anxious to meet you."

"Dr. Mebane . . . " I started.

"Audra, don't be silly. Call me David. Please."

His dark preppiness was growing on me.

"David," I said with a coquettish tilt of my head, "I am honored you even remember my application. Unexpectedly, I had a significant interruption in my plans, but it's only a hiatus, not a permanent derailment."

"Oh, I have no doubt of your dedication. I'm aware you've been working with an online course. I'm hearing good things about your teaching skills."

I lost the ability to swallow the meat stuck in my throat. I coughed daintily; nothing happened. I coughed more forcefully; still, nothing happened. I rared back and expelled so much air from my lungs at such a rate of force the meat pellet flew out of my mouth and landed on David's plate. I gasped in horror.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he patted my shoulder with one hand and palmed the pellet in the other hand.

"Yes, I'm sorry," I rasped. He was holding my expelled meat hidden in his hand.

"I'll get you something to drink – water?"

I nodded. I watched as he walked back into the dining room; I saw him discard the meat pellet and wash his hands before finding the stash of bottled water. He returned promptly and successfully. I had forgotten all about Blue Eyes and Succubus.

I returned to the high protein/low carb plate of food David had given me while he told me of his specialty: he was American lit all the way. I wondered, fleetingly, if his passion for Faulkner had anything to do with his interest in me. He also sweetly confided he was recently divorced and the father of three pre-teens.

Just as I had finally unclenched my jaw and David was pulling out pictures of the children, Blue Eyes limped up. "Through chowing down, Patient?"

My look was as hateful as I could conceive. "Dr. Greg House, this is Dr. David Mebane. David, Dr. House is my obstetrician."

"I'm pleased to meet you," David responded politely.

Blue Eyes ignored the hand David extended. "Obstetrician?"

I continued addressing David although I couldn't look away from Blue Eyes. "Dr. House takes his role as my physician very seriously. A little too seriously." Where was Succubus? Couldn't she take control of her boyfriend?

David appeared flummoxed. "If you're not happy with your medical care," he spoke intimately to me, leaning close to get my attention, "I could give you the name of the obstetrician who delivered all three of my kids."

"Is the Ph.D.'s obstetrician experienced with high risk pregnancies resulting from rape?"

"Rape?" David yelped as if someone had accused him.

"You'd better call your lawyer," I threatened as I stood.

"Who, me?" David nearly screamed.

Blue Eyes lifted his cane and shoved the tip against David's shoulder until David looked at him. "Not you, Ph.D. You're clear. Now go."

David scurried away.

"How dare you invade my environment, my circle of colleagues and mentors, and callously announce private information just to alienate a male who is paying me attention?"

"Shut up." He rubbed his forehead.

I could hear my blood swooshing in my ears. My fists were clinched at my sides and I was using every restraint not to knee him.

"_I_ didn't invade _your_ environment; _you_ invaded _my_ relationship. And the Ph.D. doesn't have any kids. He was just saying that so he could get the chance to invade _you_."

"Are you insane? Do you really think he would lie to me for sex? I'm five months pregnant. No one wants to have sex with me." I was shaking with fury.

"Good point. Maybe you've done some research he wants to use, written an article he wants to publish? I saved you from being victimized. But you don't need to thank me."

That was the last straw.

"I strongly suggest you call your lawyer because I'm going to sue you for violating the HIPAA Privacy Rule. And while I'm at it, I'll go ahead and take out a restraining order against you so I won't have to worry about _this_ type of altercation happening ever again." I tried to get past him before I had a stroke.

He laid his left palm against Ulysses, and the sprout chose that very moment to kick him so hard his hand moved. His eyes darted to his hand and back to my face.

"Ulysses?"

"Yeah. He's not fond of you right now, either."

Blue Eyes ignored me. He bent his head down next to his hand on my bulging belly and smiled faintly. "Come on, Ulysses, kick me again," he coaxed.

I was transfixed watching his face. He was concentrating with all of his being, poised in an uncomfortable crouch, waiting to be assaulted by my unborn child.

I smacked him on top of his head. "Get away from there. What is wrong with you?"

His head popped up. "What is wrong with _you_?" he pouted, rubbing his crown.

"Where is Succubus? Can't she take you home?"

"She had another appointment."

"Oh." We just stared at each other.

Finally, Blue Eyes sighed and held out his hand. "Keys. I need a ride home. Football's on this afternoon – you like football, right?"

I gave him my keys and nodded.

He opened the door to the patio and peered outside. "Come on, Big Mama, let's take a shortcut down the garden path."

We walked, slowly, around the bungalow. Once headed down the street to my truck, Blue Eyes said, "We can even invite Wilson over. He's usually alone on Thanksgiving."

"Oh, right," I replied. "I'm sure he's dying for another threesome with us."

Blue Eyes chuckled. "This time, Big Mama, _I'm_ sitting on the couch with Wilson. Sitting beside you is dangerous."

Again, inside the truck proved the place for conversation.

"Did Succubus really have another engagement?"

Blue Eyes fished in his pocket for his meds and swallowed one. "Whatever the motivation, she left to join Mark and his family for the rest of the holiday."

"The husband?" I asked, rubbing it in not a little.

"Yes, smart ss."

"So, how's that working for you?"

"Just dreamy."

Jim was already at Blue Eyes' apartment when we got there; football was in high gear and snack foods littered the coffee table along with beer bottles. Jim's eyes widened when he saw me, but he recovered quickly and gracefully.

"Audra, you look so lovely and so pregnant! Come sit beside me!" and he motioned to a spot on the couch.

I shook my head to decline, but Blue Eyes shoved me towards Jim. "Great idea, Wilson. Maybe you can persuade her to bet with you on the Cowboys. She's probably just that gullible."

I reluctantly took my end of the sofa. Football with a tipsy Jim and a surly B.E. did not bode well.

When Blue Eyes returned from the kitchen with fresh beers for Jim and himself and bottled water for me, I remembered the question I had for him: "Blue Eyes, why did you think David didn't have any children?"

"The Ph.D. guy? I saw him drive up. He had a brand new BMW Z3, which is a two-seater and an expensive sports car – definitely not the car of a family man, nor the car a man paying child support for three kids on a professor's salary can afford if he also has to maintain another car for mass transit. I told you – he was hoping to get something from you."

"It's always about sex," Jim chimed in.

I gave Jim a disgusted look, and B.E. laughed. "He mentioned my online course," I mused. "I wonder if he's doing something with e-learning."

"If he were, would you have information he would want or need?" Blue Eyes asked.

"Possibly. You truly are a cynic."

"Only because I'm right."

"I have another question."

"It'll cost you," B.E. said as he headed to the kitchen for more libations.

"That Monday we three were watching Roller Derby," I began, but Jim started moaning, "Please don't start wrestling again."

I continued, ignoring him, "I heard you on the hospital roof – I thought you were talking to Succubus – you were saying you were never where you wanted –"

"You were eavesdropping?" he interrupted as he brought back beer for Jim and himself.

"The door was propped open. Who were you talking to?"

"Myself."

An increasingly inebriated Jim giggled and said, "House talking to himself."

"Shut up," B.E. scolded.

"But, Blue Eyes, what did you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. You never mean nothing."

Dallas lost its game and the Kansas City Chiefs were beginning a game no one seemed to care about. Jim had stashed a cold cut tray in the frig, so I tidied up the empty bottles and chip bags and went to the kitchen to prepare a sandwich platter. I heard Blue Eyes thumping down the hall after me.

"I can do this without your assistance," I complained to him.

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to cook chitlins or anything else equally disgusting."

"You don't like pig innards on your tuna fish sandwiches?"

"I bet _you_ do, Tiger." He opened another beer. "Why does it matter what I was saying?"

"Because you sounded unhappy and frustrated."

"I'm dating my ex-girlfriend and her husband – shouldn't I be frustrated?"

"You should be fed up and dump her ass." I picked up the food to carry into the living room, but he blocked the doorway. "Okay, Blue Eyes, tell me: Is the sex really that good?"

We both heard a knock on the door and then the uncoordinated sounds of Jim struggling to open it.

"Oh no," I groaned as Blue Eyes muttered, "Sh!t!" Before either of us could get there, Jim had stepped aside and admitted Stacy with a flourish.

She strode right toward Blue Eyes, so I made a u-turn and headed back into the kitchen.

"A Thanksgiving football party, Greg?"

He had stopped midway up the hall. "Well, you were occupied with your husband and his relatives, so I thought I might as well entertain."

I heard Jim in the living room calling out, "Bring in the sandwiches and another beer!"

"Didn't I just see that pregnant woman go into your kitchen?" she demanded in a perfect shriek.

That pregnant woman? Succubus had already forgotten my name?

"Audra," Jim yelled.

"Thanks for your help, Wilson," Blue Eyes yelled back sarcastically. "And I'm cutting off your beer."

I heard the sound of determined steps heading toward the door with thumping and limping following.

"If she's what you wanted, why didn't you just say so, Greg. You could have saved us both a whole lot of time and trouble."

"Stacy, it's not what it looks like," Blue Eyes whined.

Jim, who had become my spokesman, admonished, "Just say what you mean, House."

"Yes," I heard Stacy challenge him, "say what you mean."

"Okay. I'm sick and tired of being held at arm's length while you cater to Mark. Make a choice."

So, was he hers for the choosing? Was it that easy for her?

Stacy sighed a perfectly feminine sigh. "All right. I will choose. Good night, Greg."

And then I heard what sounded like kissing; I peeked down the hallway and saw the back of Blue Eyes being pawed by Succubus as they engaged in what was definitely not a clenched-teeth kiss. I had to sit down at the kitchen table and take a long drink of water. When the door clicked shut, I heard Jim say, "Good night, Stacy."


	7. Chapter 7: Sometime You Do Need A Lawyer

Chapter Seven: Sometimes You Do Need A Lawyer 

I left not long after Succubus and Blue Eyes. Jim was asleep and snoring loudly and peacefully on the sofa. I covered him with a cozy afghan and placed a bottle of water within his reach. While Blue Eyes celebrated his physical conquest, Ulysses and I made our lonely way to my apartment, and I contented myself with mental pictures of their reunion lovemaking. It was a night with little sleep.

Jim called me early the next morning.

"Audra, I'm sorry to bother you – this is Jim," he stuttered.

"How's your hangover?"

"Abysmal. I have only a vague memory of the end of the evening. Can you help fill in the details?"

"Actually, Jim, I'm a little vague on the details myself. Haven't you talked with Blue Eyes?"

There was a pause on the line. "I'm a bit hesitant. Did he leave last night?"

"When I left, neither he nor Succubus were there, so I'm guessing he either left or evaporated."

"Succubus?"

"My pet name for Stacy."

Jim laughed painfully. "Right. You are wicked. Do you have any idea where they went?"

"To the moon, Jim."

"Oh, sh!t. I should probably clear out of here."

"Afraid they'll bring the party back to Blue Eyes' apartment?"

"Hang on," Jim said as he covered the phone.

I could hear muffled voices. Male voices.

"I'll call you back later, all right?" Jim asked quietly.

"Certainly."

Jim didn't call until much later that evening. He wanted to talk, so I gave him directions to my apartment. Ever the gentleman, he actually knocked on the door and waited for me to open it before entering. His rapid glance around registered his concern, but he smiled as he offered a Styrofoam container of cheesecake and a jug of mint tea. I thanked him and prepared servings for each of us. We settled on the futon, and my curiosity finally won out.

"Okay, Jim, start talking."

"I feel a bit of a traitor, you know."

"Cheesecake is perfect for salving guilty consciences."

"They went to Stacy's apartment. House assumed she had chosen him over Mark."

I had to interrupt him. "'Assumed?' Are you saying Stacy didn't choose Blue Eyes over Mark?"

"Apparently, she wasn't ready to commit to divorcing Mark. She thought House was mainly interested in sex and House thought he was mainly interested in sex . . ."

I wasn't breathing. Ulysses and I were suffocating. I had to force myself to inhale.

"But when it came time to do the deed . . ."

"Are you saying," I began in a hoarse whisper, "he had equipment failure?"

"More like he never got the key in the ignition."

I shook my head in confusion. The metaphors and analogies had me bewildered. "Think we can take a stab at speaking literally?"

Jim sighed. "House told you he had reunited with Stacy after she was married to Mark, right?"

I nodded.

"They had an affair – briefly. But House told her he couldn't make her happy and sent her back to Mark."

I continued nodding.

"Last night, when it came down to consummating the relationship again, House couldn't do it."

"Huh?"

"Here's what I think, Audra. Even though Stacy is 'separated' from Mark, they're still married, so nothing has really changed from before. If House were to have sex with her now, it would be no different than the affair he had two years ago. Maybe it's just an excuse, but he doesn't want to be her affair."

"He wants to be her husband?" I had stopped breathing again.

"I didn't say that. Audra, you're missing my point. He didn't have sex with Stacy. He spent the last couple of months wooing her, which goes totally against his nature, and as soon as she decided she wanted him, he said, 'Naw, never mind.' He doesn't really want Stacy. Of course, the challenge was a draw for him."

"Wait. If he doesn't want Succubus, what, or who, does he want?"

Jim shrugged. "I suspect he doesn't know. Yet."

"Is there a subtext to this, Jim?"

"Probably, but I was never good at literature."

"I'm not sure I buy Blue Eyes turning down sex. With an attractive woman.

Are you sure he wasn't lying?"

"No. Yes. I'm reasonably sure."

"Are you still drunk, Jim?"

"Hasn't it occurred to you he feels an attraction to you?'

I was evidently developing asthma. "It has occurred to me he pities me."

"Because you were raped?"

"Because my dissertation will never sell as a textbook."

Jim flapped his arms in a gesture of exasperation. "You're every bit as frustrating as House."

"Don't flatter me so."

"Audra, it's not necessary you tell House of, uh, this, okay?"

I nodded as he kissed me on the cheek preparatory to his exit.

"I'd like for us to keep in contact regardless of House, okay?" he asked sweetly.

I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck before he could straighten up. "Yes, please," I whispered against his neck.

He put his arms around my shoulders and squeezed me tightly before quickly releasing me. He backed away from the futon and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and I studied the hem of my blouse.

Finally, he coughed and said, "I'll call you soon."

I nodded, and he slipped into the evening.

The door hadn't been closed but a few minutes when the door knob rattled. I jumped up and pulled it open. "The belly drew you back," I said in a teasing voice as I peered into the startled gaze of Blue Eyes.

"Of course. I've been dreaming of doing an insanely pregnant woman since I was twelve." He walked past me, sat in my place on the futon, and started eating my piece of cheesecake. "Why was Wilson here?"

"You were spying on us?"

"Do pregnant women, as a rule, lose their hearing, because I don't remember that from med school? I repeat, why was Wilson here?"

"Are you attracted to me?"

He cocked his head as he looked at me; I was still standing by the door. "Is Wilson attracted to you?"

"Do assholes, as a rule, lose their hearing?"

"Do all southern women refuse to answer questions?"

"Yes. Every dammed one of us."

I sat in my desk chair and fidgeted with my hair. His long face was pale with dark circles under his eyes. He needed sleep. In between bites of cheesecake, he retrieved two pills from his shirt pocket and swallowed them with some of the tea in my glass.

"How long did you stay at my apartment last night?"

"Let me think. You and Succubus made out in the hall and then left to have sex, and Jim passed out on the sofa; since I couldn't get drunk and no one showed up to f#ck me, I finally decided to come on home around midnight so I could masturbate with my showerhead. Anything else intensely personal I can share with you?"

"If Wilson hadn't passed out, he'd have f#cked you."

"Get out, you son of a b!tch!" I screamed.

He never moved and never raised his voice. "Was it good – the showerhead, that is?"

"If you don't get out now, I will call the police."

"And tell them what? You opened the door and invited me in."

"And now I'm inviting you out."

He had finished my cheesecake and was starting on the remnants of Jim's.

"This is not a freaking restaurant. Quit eating and leave," I continued to screech.

Someone in an upstairs apartment yelled and there was accompanying thumping and knocking and the sounds of people running down halls and stairs. Blue Eyes got up and hobbled to the door and listened.

"You live in a f#cking lousy neighborhood."

"Damm, I wish you had pointed that out to me sooner. I have an idea – why don't you join those violent psychopaths running rampant in the halls? You'd fit right in."

He made it back to the futon. "I'm not leaving you alone while things are so chaotic. You're not safe."

I was apoplectic. "And who made you my keeper?"

"I owe it to Wilson to keep you in one piece until he can get a piece."

We were at a stalemate; he was parked on my futon and I was uneasily perched on my swiveling desk chair while the apartment wars raged loudly in the corridors. Blue Eyes finished the remains of Jim's cheesecake.

"Can you get me more of this tea?" he asked.

"Get it yourself."

He shrugged; then he limped to the refrigerator and refilled my glass with the mint tea. "Stacy finds you fascinating," he said when he returned to the futon.

"I advise you to stop talking," I said through clenched teeth.

"She thinks you have a bit of a crush on me." He grabbed the remote control and turned on the tv. "Oh, he!!, I forgot you only have the starter channels. And it would be Birkenstock Day on QVC. Damm!"

"What does Succubus know about who I'd have a crush on?" I asked heatedly.

"I told her you and Wilson had a mutual thing going, but she didn't believe me. She thinks you're too nasty for Wilson."

I felt my face grow red. "She thinks I'm nasty?"

"Oooh, reruns of 'The Daily Show!'" He grinned like an excited teenager. "She thinks there's something unsavory about a woman who, after being raped, would reject an abortion and, instead, give birth to the baby. Nasty." He shivered exaggeratedly.

"What?"

"She just can't understand why anyone would want to have a child without having any knowledge whatsoever about the father. Well, except for knowing the father was a violent pervert, of course."

I felt on verge of a stroke. "This is what she said?"

He continued in a modulated voice, "She was very curious about your reasons."

"You royal jackass. You're the reason I decided to keep Ulysses."

He turned from the tv screen with a look of surprise.

"Granted, the sprout's refusal to give up and just pass on through me had something to do with it, but you, you were the one who told me he was determined not to self-abort. You showed me the sonogram and told me he was 'stubborn,' that he was 'digging in his heels.' You made him real to me. You even joined me in calling him Ulysses."

He shook his head. "Oh, Christ." He put his head in his hands.

"If I'd lost him, I'd have dealt with it, certainly. But you allowed me to see Ulysses apart from the rape. And I want Ulysses. And I don't think that makes me the least bit nasty. In fact, I think it makes me bloody fantastic."

One of the ongoing quarrels escalated directly outside my apartment; something large banged into the door several times. Blue Eyes slowly got to his feet.

"Don't," I cautioned. He was looking at the door.

Several pops sounded. Bullets? A woman screamed and a car engine revved in the street. Blue Eyes turned off the apartment lights and pulled me against the wall beneath him.

"What . . ." I started.

"Hush, Mommy," he whispered against my hair.

He was crushing me, covering me, his chest pushing against mine. I was terrified. Ulysses was kicking between us.

"Does this go on every night?"

"Not every night," I whispered back.

He laid his cheek against by head. "You've gotta move."

"But the meth dealer has already promised to babysit for cold meds."

"Ahhh," he answered. "Now, there's an offer you can't refuse."

"Did Stacy really say I was nasty?"

"Actually, she said you were disgusting and needy and probably destined to be Wilson's fourth wife, but what does she know?"

"What do you think?"

"Oh, I think she's probably right."

With a little assistance from me, Ulysses shoved Blue Eyes backwards. "I think the excitement is over and you can leave now."

"But," he began.

"No buts. Go home, or to Succubus's, or to Wilson's – just go," I ordered as I pushed him to the door.

I opened it and he peered outside. All was quiet.

"See," I said, "all safe. Go." And I shoved him into the graffiti-ed hallway.

The week following Thanksgiving yielded a cornucopia of information. As it turned out, Blue Eyes had been pretty much correct about Dr. David Mebane. He had drafted a proposal for developmental classes to be taught online, and the university, before giving him the go-ahead with the project, wanted to see detailed lesson plans for the proposed courses. Because my online course had been creating a fair amount of positive buzz, he had logged into the website and stolen my study modules virtually verbatim to use for his course proposal. He had encountered a snag, however, because I only posted the modules a week in advance, and his proposal had to be completed two weeks before the end of the semester, which would leave him several modules short of a full course. Dr. Mebane thought he could seduce me, more or less, and get the missing modules from me to finish his proposal. And he was divorced, but he did have a son – a fifteen-year-old who lived in Ohio with his mother.

When I met with Dr. Jacobs and he told me of Dr. Mebane's failed proposal, he asked me if I was interested in completing it. My elation was almost uncontainable. Before I could stammer out my agreement, however, he offered a caution: "There is one concern I must address, Audra. David told quite a few people your pregnancy was the result of a rape. Now, we've never discussed the circumstances of your, er, situation, and it's certainly not my business, but the university would need your assurance that you would be able to properly head this program and give it the time and commitment it would require to be successful. And, obviously, we would not want any hint of a scandal to detract from this innovative online program."

I was happy with my online course, and I was happy teaching developmental composition classes to students who, for various reasons, struggled with basic writing skills. My online study modules had evolved as a result of my years of adjunct teaching at community colleges. I wanted the opportunity to turn them into a fully supported online program at a major university. My pregnancy not only should have been a non-issue; the how of my pregnancy wouldn't have been an issue had it not been for the big mouth of Blue Eyes. I gave Dr. Jacobs my word I could provide the study modules he needed for the online courses and that I could and would be able to direct the program while I pursued my doctorate. I also assured him my pregnancy was not the least bit scandalous.

The first of December, after a bit of thought, I called my brother. I wanted to be careful how I phrased my request, but I finally decided to just ask him.

"Hi, Cissy, how are you?" he answered the phone.

"Greg, I need a favor."

"Oh, he!!, what's wrong?"

"I need for you to recommend a lawyer here in New Jersey."

He was quiet for a few moments. "A lawyer for what, Cissy?"

"Don't ask any questions, Greg."

"Cissy, I can't refer you to anyone if I don't know what kind of lawyer you need, for goodness sakes."

"Hang on, puddin', let me finish. I'll tell you what kind of lawsuit I have to file, but I can't tell you the details until I see you for Christmas, okay?"

"Cissy, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you're sounding just the tiniest bit insane."

"Greg, I need to file a lawsuit against a lawyer for a HIPAA violation."

"A . . . oh f#ck, Cissy, are you sh!tting me? Damm!"

"I know you can suggest someone."

"He!!, yeah! That's almost in my area. Hot sh!t!"

"Whoa there, slick. I don't want to do anything but shut the doctor up."

"Cissy?"

"Just get me the lawyer's name, and I'll explain it all when I see you."

"I'll get you a lawyer and a moving van while I'm at it. You need to migrate a little further south."


	8. Chapter 8: Law Suits

Chapter Eight: Law Suits

Greg was as good as his word. Two days after our conversation I was in the office of a dour-faced attorney, Simon Kensington, explaining the sordid details of my pregnancy and the improper revelations Blue Eyes had made to numerous individuals, but to my colleagues in particular. Simon's dull, brown eyes acquired a sparkle as he pulled out a Mont Blanc pen and got down to business.

"This doctor, how do you spell his name?"

"Dr. Gregory House at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Head of Diagnostics," I replied. I was not entirely comfortable with this procedure.

"I'll have the complaint filed by the end of the week. You said he has made a habit of visiting your apartment? Perhaps a restraining order is needed. It would prevent him from further harassment and add credence to our main complaint. Do you object?" His serious eyes bore into me.

I shook my head. Blue Eyes was going to sh!t a brick.

"Greg said you only want this guy to back off – you don't want to claim any punitive damages – correct?"

"No, I don't want money," I answered in panic.

Serious Simon shook his head disappointedly. "That's too bad. However, we'll still ask for a healthy sum just to let them know we mean business. From what you've told me, it'll be up to the hospital to keep this guy in check, and they won't want their reputation screwed with over a privacy violation. I just want to make sure, but you _did_ report the rape to the police, didn't you?"

Simon had the look of a renegade vigilante. I suspected he wanted to go to Alabama to locate and eliminate the criminal himself.

"There's a complaint on file, Simon. It wasn't a date rape. I was attacked while on an evening jog. I'm being straight with you."

He nodded. "But you don't want Greg to know?"

"Simon, I'll tell him when he gets here for Christmas."

"Audra, you're one tough lady. You go get some rest and I'll put the fear of God into Dr. House."

We shook hands, and I made my way to the very hospital I was suing for my appointment with Dr. Castillo. This time the sonogram revealed a tiny, thumb-sucking, spread-eagle baby proudly displaying a vulva. Penis-less. Ulysses was a girl. I didn't mind crying this time.

Jim and I were meeting for dinner at a small Italian restaurant, Sofia's, and I was anxious to share my exciting news with him. The news about the lawsuit I thought I'd keep to myself. He had a secluded table secured for us by the time I arrived. He stood and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.

"You must have had a good check-up – you're glowing," he complimented me.

I was wearing my black pregnancy skirt, but I had on a large, fluffy sweater, and my face was haloed in white wool.

"Oh, Jim, I have the most amazing news. Order yourself a large drink. Order yourself an entire split of champagne – Ulysses and I are buying."

"Oh, my," Jim puzzled. "Can I guess? You're not having twins, are you?"

"Am I that large?" I asked with a furrowed forehead.

Jim laughed at me. "Not at all. So, what's the big news?"

I could hold it in no longer. "Ulysses is a _girl_! I'm going to have a daughter! Isn't that astounding?"

He assumed a serious countenance. "Well, you know, Audra, the odds were the baby would be either a boy or a girl."

"Smartass."

"With a name like Ulysses, she'll grow up to be a lesbian," a familiar voice said from behind my chair.

"You told him we were meeting here?" I asked Jim angrily.

Blue Eyes pulled a chair up next to me while Jim shook his head dejectedly.

"I am still your physician of record, you know – I checked on your progress with Dr. Castillo just an hour ago."

The lawsuit should end his reign as my physician.

"And you followed Jim here?"

"Don't be an idiot, Mommy. I checked his appointment book. Waiter? The lady requested a split of champagne, I believe."

I wanted to beat my head on the table.

"Audra, I apologize. If you want to leave . . ." Jim began.

"No, Jim, it's all right. There won't be many opportunities for this to happen again."

Blue Eyes gave me a quizzical look.

"I have a favor I wanted to ask you anyway," I said to Jim.

"Anything," he answered with the look of a man ready to walk on hot coals to garner favor.

"Childbirth classes start in January and I need a coach. How encouraging do you feel?"

Before he could answer, Blue Eyes said, "I thought southern women just dropped their babies in the cotton fields and kept on working."

"Yes, well, that would be the usual routine. I know the hospital is a little high tech, but since I haven't actually seen any cotton fields here in New Jersey, I thought I'd be a pioneer for my people and try a delivery room. How about it, Jim?"

"Of course, Audra, if you're sure you'd want me there."

Blue Eyes shifted in his chair. "What night are these classes on, because Jim and I have poker on Thursdays, and he has his traditional Icelandic knitting class on Tuesdays."

"Shut up, House," Jim said.

"I'm just trying to help you, bro," Blue Eyes mock-whispered to Jim.

"My mistake – I should have known better than to try to talk to anyone but you, Blue Eyes." I winked at Jim. "He gets _so_ jealous."

The champagne was delivered. I had to practically force Jim to drink any. "I really do have another reason to celebrate, so the champagne is justified. Blue Eyes was actually correct about Ph.D. guy – he was trying to steal my lesson plans for a new online program at the university. However, since he didn't succeed, they offered the program to me. _My_ program will be officially in the university catalog for the fall semester."

Jim beamed with joy. "Audra, you're going to head up your own program? Congratulations! That's fantastic. You must be excited."

Blue Eyes failed to offer any sign of enthusiasm. I concentrated on Jim's beaming smile. "Thanks, Jim. I am rather pleased."

"So," Blue Eyes interrupted, "have you thought of a better name for a girl?"

"I have a girl's name in mind, yes," I answered him.

"And will she have a black mammy?" he continued sullenly.

"Must you insist on controlling the conversation?" I asked.

"What if the rapist was black?"

All blood drained from my face. "I don't see a problem as long as he wasn't a doctor."

Jim jumped from his chair and grabbed Blue Eyes by the arm. "Now, House. Get up." His voice was low and filled with rage. Blue Eyes appeared stunned. Two uneasy waiters hovered nearby.

"Wilson, I'll go," Blue Eyes said in a calm, quiet voice.

Jim waited, but Blue Eyes didn't move.

"Sit back down, Wilson. Order your dinner. I'll leave."

Jim took a deep breath and stepped back from Blue Eyes. Nothing happened for a few moments; Blue Eyes found a pill in his jeans pocket and washed it down with champagne. Jim sat back in his chair. I started breathing again.

Blue Eyes studied my face, then asked, "What's the baby's name?"

"Zelda," I whispered.

He smiled ever so slightly. "After Zelda Fitzgerald. Of course. She was from Alabama. And crazy as a loon. Don't you think Zelda would really be a better name for a dog or a cat?"

"Since I'm not giving birth to a dog or a cat, the answer would be no."

"I hope you two enjoy your meal. And I'm sure Wilson will make an excellent birthing coach even though he never did manage to get any of his many wives pregnant."

"Blue Eyes," I scolded.

He stood. "I'm going." And he left, but he did so as if reluctant.

Simon called me the day Princeton-Plainsboro received the lawsuit. Their Dean of Medicine, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, wanted to meet with us. I told Simon he was authorized to act in my behalf; Greg was due in a few days to spend the Christmas holidays with me, and I wanted to wait until I had explained the situation to him before I agreed to anything. I dreaded having to tell Greg of the rape, but, at the same time, to have him know and to have him for advice would be an enormous relief.

I was cleaning the kitchen after a rare cooking attempt when I heard a scuffling noise in the hall. The winter night was dark and cold; I was dressed in my gray sweatpants and a Doobie Brothers t-shirt that barely met over Zelda's bulge. I had the saucepan and a dishtowel in my hand when my door swung open and a very unsteady Blue Eyes stumbled in. His eyes were bloodshot, and he dropped his cane just inside the doorway. He examined me from head to toe, shrugged off his overcoat, allowing it to drop on the floor, then struggled to get to the futon.

"Cool shirt," he slurred.

I closed my door and placed his cane beside the futon. "Apparently you know of the lawsuit but not the restraining order?" I asked him. I was standing in front of him still clenching the pan.

"Interstin' thin' bout tha' 'suit," he continued. "If I han't tol' Ph.D. guy you were raped, you woudn't hav gotn your new job."

Well, he!!, he had a point. Still, it hadn't been his news to deliver, particularly not to a stranger, nor in front of the larger audience at the Thanksgiving brunch. He rubbed his face with both his hands. He was listing to one side. I brought him a glass of water.

"Wha's this?"

"Water. To keep you from dehydrating."

"Got an' whiskey you can put 'n it?"

I raised the saucepan in a menacing posture. He held up his hand.

"'S all right. Don git your panties in a wad." He used the water to wash down a couple of his pills.

Then he slumped on his side and started snoring.

I tried to wake him, but he was out. I pushed and pulled until I finally had the futon extended enough to serve as a bed. B.E. had just slid out along with the mattress and gave every impression of sleeping on it without moving. I took off his shoes. He looked sad. His face was long and thin with a graying, cropped beard. I ran my fingers lightly across the stubble, and he grumbled briefly in his sleep but didn't wake. I left my clothes on and laid down on the futon beside him, covering us both in several heavy quilts. My apartment wasn't well heated and I was cold. And I was nervous having him so close to me.

Just as I began to drift off, Blue Eyes rolled my way, threw his right arm around my expanding belly, dragged me against his chest, murmured something incomprehensible into my hair, and settled back into a familiar, sleeping hum. I relaxed under his arm and rubbed my ass against his groin for good measure, then fell into my own version of a sleeping hum.

The apartment was still dark when B.E. moved from the bed and lurched into the bathroom. He peed and lurched back, gracelessly crawling over me and under the blankets. I kept still and pretended to be asleep.

He nuzzled the back of my head. He slipped his right hand just inside the waist of my sweat pants and rubbed my belly. His icy feet entwined themselves with mine. I felt his teeth nip my ear lobe; instinctively, I turned my head back towards him.

"Ahhh, you are awake, Tiger," he whispered.

His hand continued stroking my belly, slipping beneath the top of my panties, and began caressing the downward slope of Zelda's bulge. I, cowardly, didn't speak.

"Come here, Tiger," he whispered.

I let him guide me onto my back. His face was inches from mine. He was propped on his left elbow and used his left hand to push the hair from my face. I studied him even as he studied me. He leaned to me and his lips touched mine, softly and tenderly. I sighed and closed my eyes. But he stopped and pulled back from me.

"What?" I started.

"Hush," he whispered. "Don't spoil anything by talking."

I tensed in an angry response; immediately, he kissed me purposefully, pressing his open mouth against mine until I relented and allowed his tongue inside. I didn't know whether to blame the hormones of pregnancy or the many months of celibacy or the shock of below freezing temperatures, but I didn't want him to stop kissing me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and clasped him to me fiercely. His fingers moved lower and grazed my clump of pubic hair. I jumped in alarm.

"Shhhh," he whispered against my panicked mouth. "Let me."

He sat up and pulled his shirts off, then he helped pull my t-shirt over my head. I felt exposed and vulnerable with my enlarged pregnancy breasts, but he touched them gingerly, using his thumb to rub the nipples. He seemed inpatient and tugged at my sweat pants, so I lifted my butt off the bed as he pulled them and my panties off. He removed his own pants and covered us back in the quilts, bringing his face back nose-to-nose with mine.

"Close your eyes," he told me as he kissed my nose, my chin, my neck, and then ducked his head beneath the blankets.

I felt his erection rubbing against my side as he gently and then more vigorously sucked on first one nipple and then the other. At the same time, his hand nudged my thighs apart and his fingers slid through the folds of my labia and found my clitoris. He rubbed some of the moisture from my vagina around to aid his ministrations. My back arched, and I strained against him as I felt my orgasm nearing. He brought his mouth back to mine, kissing me, as he felt me shivering with the building tension.

"Say my name," he whispered. "Say my name when you come."

Hearing his voice so close to my ear and feeling his breath on my cheek was all I needed to dissolve into the convulsions of my orgasm. I curled towards him, closing myself around his hand, whispering, "Blue Eyes," into his neck. He covered me with his body and sheltered me until my shivering stopped.

Once I was calm, he tenderly turned me away from him and entered me from behind with both of us on our sides. With Zelda's bulge a definite encumbrance, the positioning was tricky, and I felt distanced from him. He held one breast in one hand and cradled my belly with the other as he rocked against me. I heard him, as he came, grunt in my ear, "Tiger." He was asleep as soon as he finished. I fell asleep wondering if having sex with him invalidated the restraining order.

Sunlight was peeping through the window blinds when I finally began to surface from a deep sleep. Blue Eyes was lying on his back beside me, his hands joined behind his head. He felt me stirring.

"Well, that was a first," he mused.

"New position?"

"No. But I've never had sex with a pregnant woman before, at least not knowingly."

"Glad I could help you scratch that goal off your list," I snarled as I moved away.

"Wait, Mommy. I want to look at your belly in the light." He snatched the bedclothes back and proceeded to stare at my naked body.

"Come on. You've seen naked pregnant women before."

"Hundreds. I could feel Zelda moving while we were . . ."

"Okay, enough. The freak show is over." And I rolled off the futon and into the bathroom with as much grace as a bull elephant.

"Your belly button is about ready to pop out," he yelled.

"Pop out of what?" I yelled back.

"Just pop out. You'll no longer have an inny – it'll be a true outy. A way outy." He sounded insufferably pleased with himself.

I turned on the shower and eased myself into the stinging spray. I couldn't quite believe the activities of the previous evening. I heard the door creak and the sound of Blue Eyes peeing. He was humming.

"Don't . . ." I started, but he had already flushed.

I leapt from the scalding shower and knocked full throttle into Blue Eyes. He caught me as he was going down. We landed in a pile on the slippery linoleum.

"Sh!t!" he yelled.

I was wedged on top of his right thigh. The scar was enormous and the flesh was uneven and angry looking. I scrambled off, but I couldn't stop looking at his leg. I felt humbled by his injury. I ran my hand across the expanse of missing muscle. He tried to push me away, but I persisted. Without thinking, I leaned over and kissed his thigh as a mother would kiss a child's boo-boo to make it better. When I finally looked into his lovely eyes, I saw an anguish there I had not previously noticed.

"How?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does. You can tell me." I was almost begging him. I wanted to be taken into his confidence. I wanted to be a part of this thing that so defined his life – that gave his life its parameters. I reached my hand out to caress his cheek. He turned his face into my hand and kissed my palm. He closed his eyes and sighed as weary a sigh as I had ever heard.

We both startled at the sound of his cell phone ringing. He pulled himself to his feet and hobbled into the other room. By the time I had turned off the shower and wrapped my robe around me, he was dressed and preparing to leave.

"Hospital," he said. "I have a patient."

I nodded.

He hesitated for an instant, and then he regained his purpose and left.

December twentieth I went to meet my brother at the Newark airport. I was nervous and jumpy since he still didn't know about Zelda. He was the last to deplane; he rolled his wheelchair right up to me, skidded to a stop, then motioned for me to lean down.

"Cissy, I don't want to alarm you, but you seem to have put on a good bit of weight," he whispered loudly.

I straightened back up and grinned at his handsome face. "Pregnancy."

"Ahhh," he said. "Then you did notice. I was concerned. Is Allen responsible?"

My ex. "No, no, not at all," I stammered.

"Thank God. _There's_ a gene pool that doesn't need to propagate. Don't tell me you've spawned with some left-wing, liberal, English lit, Yankee?"

"I only wish. Come on, Greg, let's get your bags, and I'll fill in the details in the truck."

"This is what you've been keeping secret, isn't it?" he continued.

"No flies on you, slick," I replied as we moved to the baggage claim.

"Nope. I'm pretty quick, in case you've forgotten, Cissy," he said with a huge, beaming grin.

Once inside the truck, I told Greg about the rape. I also told him about my stay in Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and how my doctor had spread the information of the rape to my university colleagues. Greg listened without much response, but I could feel the anger radiating off of him. When he saw my apartment, he found an outlet for some of his emotions.

"Christ, woman, you're living in the ghetto," he yelled.

"Listen, Elvis, don't insult my home unless you want my neighbors to hurt you," I warned him.

"Now you're going to be heading up your own program, can't they pay you enough to afford a real apartment – one with bedrooms, for example?" he complained as he wheeled around. "Am I sleeping on the inflatable bed again? I'm old enough to warrant a real bed, you know."

"When _I_ get a real bed, then I'll get you a real bed. Until then, you can have the futon and I'll take the inflatable mattress."

"Good. I bet you can hear the insects marching down there."

"There are no insects here, Greg," I protested.

"You're just used to them. They probably like pregnant women. They're waiting for you to give birth so they can eat your baby."

"You're disgusting."

"But you love me." And he was right. More than almost anyone, I loved him.

The next morning I was supposed to meet Simon at Dr. Lisa Cuddy's office about the lawsuit; I hadn't heard a word from Blue Eyes since the hit-and-run sex. I wanted to drop the whole thing, but Simon insisted we make an appearance to insure Blue Eyes' mouth was silenced. I took Greg with me. Naturally, just as Greg, Simon, and I exited the elevator outside Dr. Cuddy's office, Blue Eyes and Jim appeared.

"Still going through with this frivolous lawsuit?" Blue Eyes demanded. He was angry and unbalanced; something was not right with him.

"Why are you here? Jim, why is he here?" I asked in confusion.

"Is this guy your lawyer?" Blue Eyes asked, pointing to Greg with his cane.

"No, sir, I'm not her lawyer, unfortunately for her." Greg then turned to me. "Who is this c#cksucking b.p.?"

"What did he just call me?" B.E. asked.

"This is Dr. Greg House," I said to my brother. "And he called you a b.p., which is his abbreviation for biped," I said to B.E.

"Fortunately for you," my brother said to Blue Eyes, "my area of practice is limited to violations of the Americans with Disabilities Act – not HIPAA violations."

"Oh, I see. Guy in a wheelchair representing other people whining about not being accommodated – I bet you get all the sympathy," Blue Eyes said.

My brother leaned back in his chair and curved his lips into a lazy smile. "Boy, you've made an error in judgment by harassing my sister." Greg had on his best 'good ole boy lawyer' face.

"She made an error in judgment by screwing the guy she was suing."

My mouth dropped open, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

"House," Jim cautioned. He put his hand on Blue Eyes' arm, but B.E. shook him off.

"I came here to drop the lawsuit – you didn't have to blackmail me into it," I hissed at B.E.

"You look like an athletic man, Dr. House," my brother continued in his easy drawl. "You seem to be in pain. Have you ever used a chair?"

Blue Eyes stepped back and stared at Greg, trying to decipher his motives. "I've used a wheelchair."

"And yet you prefer to walk with a cane. Why is that?" Greg continued.

"Because I can."

Greg nodded in understanding. "Yes, I can walk, too, but not for long. I tire easily. Do you have that problem?"

Blue Eyes looked completely befuddled. "Are you diagnosing me?"

Greg chuckled. "Actually, I was going to suggest we find a gym and shoot some hoops. Have you ever played wheelchair basketball, Dr. House?"

I finally realized what Greg was up to. "Greg, no. I have to meet with Dr. Cuddy, and then we'll go to lunch. Please."

Blue Eyes looked at me but addressed Greg. "We have a gym with a basketball goal. I'm sure I can find a free wheelchair, _Greg_."

Greg turned to Simon. "Why don't you take Cissy into her meeting with Dr. Cuddy while Dr. House and I go play horse? I'll meet you in the lobby when we're through."

"Greg," I snapped.

Both Gregs looked at me.

"Are you so worried I'll beat your baby brother?" Blue Eyes asked.

"No. I _know_ he'll beat you. I'm _worried_, however, he'll hurt you."

Jim said, "Audra, you've just challenged House."

I looked at Blue Eyes and saw the glint of competitive zeal in his eyes and knew Jim was right. Greg was not only on the United States Wheelchair Basketball Team in the Paralympics, but he was widely recognized as one of the most fearless and most ferocious of all players.

"Wheelchair basketball is brutal," I said to Jim. "We can't let them play."

Simon touched my arm. "Audra, your doctor hasn't been impressed by any of my legal machinations. Perhaps Greg's administration of humility will do him some good."

"Jim," I said, "if they insist on playing, you must come, too."

"Why?" he asked helplessly.

"To referee," I answered, a bit hysterically, "and to provide CPR."


	9. Chapter 9: Round Ball

Chapter Nine: Round Ball

A small audience assembled in the gymnasium: Simon, Jim, doctors Chase, Cameron, and Foreman, and a brunette woman Simon said was Dr. Cuddy. Greg wasted no time removing his coat, tie, and shirt, leaving him in his trousers and his undershirt. He found a basketball and immediately began bouncing it go get the feel of it in his hands.

Blue Eyes located an unoccupied sports chair and practiced maneuvering it. He wasn't accustomed to making quick turns or stops in a chair, so he was at a definite disadvantage. Greg kept one eye on Blue Eyes as he balanced the ball on the fingers of his right hand.

"Hey, b.p.," Greg called, "grab a ball and take some practice shots. You need to warm up." The grin never slipped from his face.

Blue Eyes grabbed a ball and bounced it experimentally. He looked to Greg and asked, "How do you prefer to be addressed: as handicapped, or disabled, or differently abled?"

Greg lifted the ball over his head with his right hand and launched it through the net without looking away from Blue Eyes. "I take exception to the term 'handicapped' because its derivation is beggar, and I am certainly no beggar." He retrieved the ball and turned to face the basket again. His street chair wasn't as quick or as accurate as his training or competition chairs, but he could still make it spin on a dime. "To tell you the truth, I prefer cripple."

Blue Eyes lifted the ball with both hands, took aim, and hit the underside of the rim. The ball bounced wildly back to him, and I could see the look of frustration on his face. "So, _Greg_, how did you become a cripple?"

Still looking at Blue Eyes, Greg again sent the ball effortlessly through the hoop. "I was born this way, b.p."

Blue Eyes looked at me, then back at Greg. "So, _Greg_, what is your diagnosis, precisely?"

Greg bounced the basketball several times as he wheeled in a circle. "Well, b.p., I have no true diagnosis. For lack of a better term, my paperwork says spastic diplegia."

Blue Eyes lined the ball up and took another shot, this time hitting the lip of the rim so that the ball bounced against the inside of the rim before scooting back out. "Cerebral palsy? From a birth injury?"

"Actually, since you're so interested, the prevalent theory is that it's a genetic condition, although no one seems to be able to put a name to it." Greg rolled his ball to Jim. "Are you ready to play?"

Blue Eyes shrugged and nodded.

Greg said, "One push for each bounce of the ball. You can go first, b.p."

Blue Eyes alternated bouncing the ball and pushing the wheels of the chair as he continued, "Why don't you let me do some tests – see if I can come up with a diagnosis?"

Greg smoothly wheeled his chair next to B.E.'s, bumping him lightly, and said, "Thanks, b.p., I appreciate that, but I don't need a diagnosis." Greg then reached out and deftly removed the ball from B.E.'s hands.

Greg turned and flipped the ball through the net with scarcely a glance. Everyone applauded. Simon sidled up to Dr. Cuddy and whispered animatedly in her ear while Jim had moved next to me. "Your brother is awesome," he whispered.

"You have no idea," I moaned. "Jim, we need to get them to stop."

"_Greg_, your sister is pregnant with a baby that might also have the same genetic defect you have – don't you want to find out for her sake?" Blue Eyes asked as he tried, again, to move his chair into position to shoot.

"No offense, b.p., but Cissy knows what she's doing. After all, she raised me." Greg continued to block B.E.'s wheelchair every time he managed to make headway toward the goal.

B.E. was concentrating on getting past Greg; he tried to use force, but Greg wedged the front wheels of his chair against the rear wheels of B.E.'s chair, sending B.E. to a skidding stop. B. E. looked at him. "She raised you?"

Greg continued to smile calmly. "Our mother, while handy if you want a glass of sweet tea diluted with rum, lacks the maternal gene. Cissy took care of me. I'm sure she'll do a good job with her daughter."

Blue Eyes, in exasperation, heaved the heavy ball in an arcing flight to the basket, completely missing the entire goal. "And what if her daughter is a cripple?"

Greg raced to garner the rebound. "How bad could it be if she's like me?" he asked confidently before banking a lay up off the backboard.

I could see the sweat on Blue Eyes' brow; Greg, of course, was relaxed and cocksure. I hated this.

"What," B.E. asked, "if her daughter is in pain with her disability?"

"Like you, b.p.?" Greg asked as he tossed the ball to B.E.

"Yeah, like me." Blue Eyes started to propel himself forward, but again Greg jammed his wheels against B.E.'s chair to stop it. Then Greg twisted his wheels quickly, sending the other wheelchair careening off in the opposite direction. B.E. had to hustle to get control of the chair before it slammed into the wall.

"We all have pain, b.p. You have pain when you walk. I saw it in your face," Greg continued as he moved his chair to pin B.E. against the wall. "I had pain, for example, when I had a portion of my wrist bone removed. Hurt like bloody hell, b.p." Greg leaned forward to intimidate B.E. "And Cissy – can you imagine the pain she felt when she was innocently jogging and felt herself tackled and thrown down by some unknown man, and then had to endure his use of her?" Greg rammed his chair into B.E.'s. "As if rape wasn't enough, she had to suffer the taunts and queries of the twenty-year-old bubba who found her, along with the inept police and medical personnel." Greg again rammed his chair into B.E.'s.

"Jim," I pleaded, "make this stop."

"And, as if that wasn't enough, she then had to listen as you announced her violation to all of her peers. Betrayal by someone you trust is especially painful, don't you think, b.p.?" Greg rammed B.E.'s chair a third time, then jerked his wheels away and flipped B.E.'s chair on its back.

I had turned my face away, but I heard the crack of the chair and the thud of Blue Eyes' head as they hit the gymnasium floor. I felt Jim beside me.

"House," Jim called.

Everyone ran to Blue Eyes. Except me. Greg rolled over and handed me the basketball.

My balance was off due to Zelda's presence, but I took careful aim and threw a perfect stike: nothing but net.

"Beaten by my own sister," Greg said.

Blue Eyes was being helped back into the wheelchair.

"I should beat you for real," I threatened.

"Hold that thought, Cissy," he said before rolling back toward Blue Eyes. "Now, listen, b.p. Put my sister's business on the street again and I'll do more than tip over your chair – you got me?"

Blue Eyes, while rubbing the back of his head, nodded. Greg nodded back at him; then, to everyone's surprise but mine, Greg extended his hand and Blue Eyes took it.

I couldn't watch any longer. I hauled Zelda and myself out of the gym and out into the frigid air of a New Jersey winter. Snow flakes drifted through the air. I forgot about the truck, and I forgot about my apartment. I just walked.

I was sitting in the snack room of the university library when my phone started vibrating. Greg.

"Where the devil are you?" he demanded as soon as I answered.

"I'm finishing an article for _Contemporary Literary Criticism_. That translates as, 'I'm working.' Where are you?" I could hear laughter and restaurant noises in the background.

"I'm in a bar called 'The Brick' with b.p. and a bunch of other doctors. And there's this really hot, skinny girl who keeps flirting with me. I think she likes my accent," Greg continued excitedly.

"That would be Dr. Cameron, and she does, indeed, like accents," I replied.

"There's some Australian doctor who keeps acting like he's her boyfriend, but I'm pretty sure he's gay. Anyway, why don't you stop what you're doing and come here?"

"Greg, you just knocked Blue Eyes on his head, and now you're out partying with him? Explanation."

"He's an asshole. Knocking him on his head was a form of introduction – the way dogs sniff each other's butts."

"So, now you've sniffed each other . . ."

"Cissy, get down here," Greg begged.

"I'm without a vehicle and I don't know where you are, slick."

"Hold on," Greg said before, apparently, laying the phone down and engaging in a spirited conversation.

Finally, a familiar voice answered. "Audra? This is Jim."

I sighed in relief. "How is Blue Eyes?"

"He's learning to negotiate with your brother. Interesting dynamics. Shall I come get you?" Jim offered.

I, naturally, allowed him to pick me up and ferry me back to the bar. Indeed, the group occupied a table of eight: Blue Eyes, Jim, the three fellows, Dr. Cuddy, Simon, and Greg. When I waddled in, Greg rolled back to make room for another chair beside him, which also placed me next to Blue Eyes.

I felt uneasy sitting next to him. My heart rate skyrocketed and my face flushed. Greg ordered me a large glass of ice water and watched me with familial concern. As I sipped on the water, Blue Eyes leaned over and whispered, "Your brother plays dirty, Ms. Fitzgerald."

"I know."

"Why did you tell me there were no genetic problems in your family?" he asked.

"Because there aren't."

Greg was trying his best to woo Dr. Cameron while Dr. Chase tried to determine whether Greg was a serious threat or just a harmless redneck.

"I want to run some tests on Greg," Blue Eyes persisted.

I turned to look into his face. "He already told you he has no interest in medical tests or diagnoses or prognoses, Blue Eyes." As soon as I whispered the last two words, I saw, briefly, a softening in his eyes. I reached under the table and placed my hand over his. "Are you all right?"

"I was better before the _Deliverance_ escapee knocked me on my ass. Boys play rough down south."

I smiled at him. "Greg let you off easy, you know." I glanced at my brother and observed him doing shots of tequila with Drs. Chase and Foreman while Dr. Cuddy, Simon, and Jim were huddled together chatting amiably. "They must not have jello shooters here," I remarked. He chuckled, and I felt his hand turn over and grasp mine.

"You look tired, Fitzgerald," he whispered.

Our shoulders were touching. Our legs were touching. Our hands were entwined. He reached over with his free hand and rested it against Zelda.

"I think she's sleeping," I mused.

"Probably composing," he quipped. "Listen, Fitzgerald, I know your brother is here visiting, and I'm sure you want to spend time with him, but do you think there's any chance you might want to visit my apartment tonight?"

"Are you propositioning me, Blue Eyes?"

He almost smiled. "Has your belly button popped out yet?"

I smiled. I nodded.

"Don't you think I should check it?" he continued.

"I wasn't aware it required medical attention."

"I would have to see it in order to evaluate it," he leered.

"You're flirting with me," I accused. "I'm over six months pregnant, and you're flirting with me."

"I apologize – I thought, after our last encounter, we were on flirting terms."

"Stacy?" I asked.

"Not who I wanted after all." He withdrew his hand from my belly. "Can we just tell your alpha male brother we're going to my apartment for sex, or do we have to concoct a lie?"

Dr. Cameron was now perched in Greg's lap, and Dr. Chase's eyes appeared ready to cross.

"I'm not sure it's safe to leave Greg alone with Dr. Cameron. She's in Greg's lap, but she keeps looking at you – something I should know about?"

"When was Greg diagnosed with cerebral palsy?" Blue Eyes asked, conveniently changing the subject.

"He walked before he was a year old, but he had a crossing gait. I used to say he walked like an arthritic cowboy. When he went for his two year check-up, we made the doctor watch him walk. That was it."

"And?" he prompted.

"They told us he'd walk, just not as gracefully as most. At age three he quit walking altogether. After years of expensive physical therapy and massive surgeries the summer between first and second grade, he could walk with the aid of crutches for limited distances. Hence, the wheelchair."

"He said you raised him?"

Greg was popping wheelies with Dr. Cameron in his lap, and Drs. Chase and Foreman had begun talking to a group of college coeds at the next table.

"Our mother is a practicing alcoholic: she practices every night."

"Why?"

"I have no answer that would justify her alcoholism, but the phrase 'narcissistic personality disorder' might give you a hint. Plus, she's dysthymic and foolishly treats her depression by regularly ingesting a depressant," I answered.

"And your father?" he pursued.

I sighed. "He's a frustrated farmer turned chemical engineer. He's what you could describe as detached. Brilliant man, wonderful wit, just not interested in flaws."

"So . . ."

"So, Blue Eyes, I was the one taking Greg to the doctors, to physical therapy, to the hospital for tests and treatments. And I took him to programs where he learned to swim and play wheelchair sports."

"You did all that while going to school and working?" he asked.

The waiter brought him another scotch and a glass of water for me.

"We're close," I answered.

"You're the caretaker."

I smiled at him, our hands still together. "Obviously."

"I still want to run some tests on him," he continued.

"Won't happen, Blue Eyes."

"Since Greg has Cameron in his lap, do you think he'd let you leave with me? Quid pro quo."

I laughed. "Ask him."

Blue Eyes looked past me to where Greg was parked, very close to Dr. Cameron. "Greg," he called.

My brother looked up, saw us, smiled, and waved; then, he turned back to his conversation with Dr. Cameron. I nudged Blue Eyes with my shoulder. "He just dismissed you."

Blue Eyes shook his head. We were interrupted when Jim took a chair beside Blue Eyes.

"I guess you saw that, right?" Jim asked us. He was quite agitated.

"What?" we both asked.

"Simon, _your_ lawyer," he gestured to me, "just left with Lisa. Or, I should say, Lisa just left with him. Can you believe it?"

I controlled my urge to smile, but Blue Eyes was not so sympathetic. "Lost your administrator?"

"I should have known you wouldn't care," Jim moaned.

"If it'll help any," I began, "Simon is a player, Jim. He's not interested in long-term."

"Oh, _that_ will make him feel better," Blue Eyes snapped sarcastically.

I ducked my head in embarrassment. "I only meant he wasn't a threat to a real romance." I shrugged.

Blue Eyes was staring at me. "There's no romance. Is there a romance, Wilson? There's no romance."

Jim signaled the waiter for another round of drinks. He looked crestfallen.

Greg had moved even farther from us so that his conversation with Dr. Cameron was unintelligible, but she was giggling and acting girlish. Drs. Chase and Foreman had finally joined the group of young women and were talking enthusiastically as the women lavished them with attention.

"Do you like her, Jim?" I asked.

Jim was flustered. "Of course, as a friend."

Blue Eyes nodded. "See. A friend."

"I'm not biting," I said. "If she were just a friend, then you wouldn't have minded her leaving with someone else. You're jealous."

"I am not jealous," Jim said, a tad too forcefully. "It's just bad manners, leaving like that."

Blue Eyes nodded. "Yes, Wilson, here, always bows to forms of etiquette. Mr. Manners, I call him."

"House, shut up," Jim finally scolded Blue Eyes. "You're happy – you have Audra."

"What?" Blue Eyes and I both asked.

"Oh, stop posing, House," Jim admonished. "You don't go around meddling in someone's life as much as you do hers _unle__ss_ you're attracted to her."

"I never said she wasn't attractive," he muttered.

A paper airplane made from a napkin hit my arm. I felt around and found it. On it was written: "Leaving. Will call you in the am. Don't worry. Greg."

When I tried to see the crazy sh!thead, I couldn't find him. B.E. pointed to a far corner, and I realized he was wheeling through an exit with Dr. Cameron draped across his lap. I looked at B.E. and Jim.

"Another couple hooking up?"

B.E. said, "She really wants me."

"Not after tonight," I retorted.

Jim put his head in his hands. "I guess it's time for me to surrender and go home."

We watched Jim leave in silence.

"Well," Blue Eyes started, "shall we go to my apartment _now_?"

"Are you going to stop announcing every little detail you learn about me to the public at large?"

"I don't know," he waffled.

"Fine," I said, and I moved to stand.

"Okay, okay, I promise not to tattle. Now?" he pleaded.

We didn't have sex that night.

We drove to Blue Eyes' apartment in a companionable peace. Once inside, however, he couldn't resist questioning me about Greg again.

"Why did the basketball bully say the current theory was genetic?" he asked as he arranged himself on his sofa. He beckoned for me to lie down with my head resting on a pillow in his lap.

"A doctor he saw when he was in college believed his condition was the result of an autoimmune problem. He tried IV infusions of gamma globulin to try to increase his muscle mass, and it worked. Unfortunately, the three days of infusions every three months made him sick and interfered with his classes. Greg finally decided the benefits weren't worth the side effects." I closed my eyes; I didn't like to talk about Greg's choice to forego treatment. "Because he did respond to the IVIG and because he didn't fit into any other pattern, Dr. Michaels decided it had to be genetic."

"And you're not worried about Zelda inheriting the same disorder?"

"Worried? Not one bit."

He shook his head in confusion. "Don't you want your daughter to be perfect?"

"Okay," I said with a sigh, "here's the problem: In life there is no perfection. Once you accept imperfection, life just presents a variety of imperfections to each person. While one person might have to deal with wrestling through life with a wheelchair, another might have to dance with a completely different devil. The other guy's imperfections might be more debilitating than the ones you started with."

"Let's see if I have this straight: Life's a crap shoot. You have to play the cards you're dealt. Don't worry; be happy. Any other useless clichés you want to throw in?"

"I don't know if this qualifies as a cliché, but obnoxious men don't get laid."

Blue Eyes chuckled. "Our past would indicate you're mistaken."

"Even a blind pig can find an acorn once," I replied.

He absently stroked my hair. "Fitzgerald, a few tests might tell us a lot about Greg's disability."

"Blue Eyes, I know this is difficult for you to understand, but in his eyes he is a normal guy living a normal life. Period. He doesn't agonize over what he can't do. He moves forward. I don't always agree with his choice of progress, but I've had to adapt to his adulthood and his right to choose the path of his progress. He is not unhappy."

Blue Eyes didn't seem capable of understanding. "How can he be happy, always having to rely on a dammed wheelchair just to move around?" His anger, I felt, was unconnected to Greg.

I strained to see him, but he was staring across the room. I reached my hand up to touch his cheek. "Blue Eyes," I whispered. "This is no longer about my brother, is it?"

He continued staring at an unknown place behind my head. "I was an athlete as a kid. I ran hurdles in high school. I loved the pace, the need to time the stride, and then flying over the obstacle. When life would become too stressful, I'd just go out and run for miles. Any time of day or night."

I listened raptly; I sensed he was confiding personal, cherished memories.

"Seven years and six months ago, while playing golf, a blood clot settled in my thigh. However, the diagnosis came too late to save the muscle. You've seen."

I nodded gently.

"I won't run again. He!!, I won't even walk without pain again."

"You're bitter."

"Damm straight I'm bitter," he spat back at me. "Wouldn't you be?"

"Blue Eyes, I won't lie to you; if I were Greg, I'd whine every minute of every day of my life. Fortunately for me, Greg handles it differently. How you handle your leg is up to you. Can you tell me who your bitterness is directed at?"

"Cuddy was my doctor. She missed the call. And Stacy, she signed for them to remove my damaged thigh muscle while I was in an induced coma." His voice was quiet and hoarse as he continued to fixate on the opposite wall.

"So, you're angry with Dr. Cuddy and Stacy?"

He rubbed his hand over his face. "No. I'm angry with God, or fate, or karma, or the magic of the eight ball."

I smiled slightly. "But you admit you're angry?"

He finally looked down at me. "I thought we came here to have sex?"

"Oh, I'm sorry – did I deviate from the game plan?"

"Yes," he said, but the distant glint in his eyes told me his mind was, for once, not on having sex.

"Tell me what you want, Blue Eyes."

He felt around on the end table until he found a medicine bottle with his magic pills; he took a couple. Then, he reluctantly looked at me. "I think, if you wouldn't be offended, I'd just like to go to sleep."

"I'm not offended," I responded. "What's your idea?"

He sighed with fatigue. "Would you sleep with me? I would just like to have you near."

I smiled up at him. "Dear Blue Eyes, with a belly the size of mine, just sleeping is what I do best."

I rose from the sofa and he followed me into his bedroom. In the dark, we both stripped to just our skin and slipped beneath the covers of his bed. We immediately fell into the "spoon" position with my back to his chest. He wrapped his arm around me, around Zelda's bulge, and insinuated his legs between mine. With his head nestled in my hair, he exhaled a long-kept breath and began to relax.

"Are you worried about being the only parent for Zelda?" he whispered.

"Sugar, I don't spend time worrying. I try to just live, day-to-day, with as few fears as possible."

"I don't want to criticize, as peaceful as this is, but you should probably spend some time worrying about your neighborhood. I mean, you're really not safe there."

I could feel sleep taking over his body as the arm around me felt leaden and his voice was broken with the soft hum of his nocturnal breathing. "You can help me find a new apartment after Zelda's born," I offered, but he was already asleep.


	10. Chapter 10: Christmas

Chapter Ten: She Swallows

Morning was still hours away when I awakened to the feel of a bearded chin rubbing against my shoulder. A soft breath tickled my ear.

"Wake up, Daisy Buchanan, or I'll have to start without you."

I groaned and rolled over and under Blue Eyes. He rubbed his rough chin up the side of my face, ending with his mouth poised inches above mine. I found myself, unexpectedly, anxious for the feel of his kiss. I moved my chin upwards, making my mouth accessible, but he remained out of reach, his eyes searching mine in the darkness broken only by the glimmer of the nightlight in the bathroom. I ran the fingers of one hand along his back, feeling the muscle and bones of his ribcage, while I cupped his head with my other hand.

"What are you thinking, Blue Eyes?"

"I was thinking how lovely you are for a pregnant woman," he answered.

"I don't suppose you could start thinking how lovely I would be to kiss, could you?"

He almost smiled. "I was actually thinking just that."

He brushed my lips with his, and I parted mine in anticipation of a deeper kiss. I craved a deeper kiss. He teased me, using his tongue to outline my mouth, while I squirmed against him. I was impatient. He was torturous. I tried to pull his head down to kiss me, but he was strong enough to resist. His chin dipped beneath my chin and pushed my head back so he could rub his beard along my neck. He licked and sucked my nipples until they were tender. He laid his cheek against my belly, kissing the bulge gently, repetitively, until he moved his mouth even lower. I was nearly mindless with my desire for him. I couldn't lie still and complacent any longer. I pulled his face back to mine.

"Kiss me first," I asked.

"I was going to kiss you, but you stopped me," he snickered.

"No, silly, kiss my _mouth_."

He complied with my request, smothering my mouth with his. I absorbed his tongue, his teeth, his lips – everything I could. Then I changed positions, crawling underneath the sheet to take him into my mouth. I licked and sucked and teased; he took advantage of my anatomy and licked and sucked and teased. I was caught in a maelstrom of sensations. I concentrated on Blue Eyes: I felt him growing harder and larger as his orgasm neared. When he did, finally, come in my mouth, I was so aware of every shudder, every tremor, that my own orgasm coincided. Blue Eyes pulled me around and into his arms, cradling my head on his panting chest. His heart drummed in my ear, and his taste saturated my mouth. I fell back asleep thinking how salty he was.

Blue Eyes woke me up again, but this time he handed me my cell phone. Greg.

"Did you go off with that biped?" he immediately asked.

"And you went off with Dr. Cameron in your lap – do you want to tell me about _that_?"

"Her name is Allison and she's older than she looks. I'm at your apartment; when are you coming home?"

I watched Blue Eyes limping around the bedroom, his jeans and t-shirt already disguising the body I had only just begun to know. "You found the hidden key, right?"

"Yes, Cissy, but I don't feel particularly safe here. Come home, and I'll buy us both breakfast."

As soon as I ended the call, Blue Eyes was back on the bed, sitting beside me.

"Your brother, the southern tornado, afraid to stay alone?" he taunted.

"Will you drive me back to the hospital to get my truck?" I asked.

"I have a better idea," he said. "We'll go pick up your brother and let him take us both out for breakfast before I take you to your truck."

I squinted my eyes at him. "You just want to know about him and Dr. Cameron, don't you?"

"She wanted to sleep with me, but I used restraint. But I'm not dead. Some things a man just needs to know."

"If you'll let me take a shower, I'll let you come to breakfast with us. But, I warn you, Greg is very bright and very sharp, so you may have your hands full jousting with him."

He pointed to the bathroom. "Shower away. I'm just dying to joust with your brother."

I agreed hesitantly, although the memory of sleeping with Blue Eyes curled protectively around me helped allay most of my anxieties.

Greg registered minor shock when he saw the two of us at the apartment, but he recovered quickly. While I stowed his wheelchair in the trunk, Greg began poking at Blue Eyes.

"I should have guessed she'd pick you; she's always had a weakness for doctors."

I cut my eyes at my brother in what I hoped would be a death inducing glare, but Greg grinned amiably back at me as he settled himself in the back seat. Blue Eyes wasn't about to let Greg's remark go by unexplored.

"You have a pattern of seducing your doctors?" he asked.

"Of course not. That's just rubbish," I objected as we drove to a diner near the university campus.

Greg punctuated my denial with a raucous snort.

"The southern psycho back there seems to disagree," B.E. pursued.

"Greg," I started, "how did things go with Dr. Cameron?"

"Her name is Allison, and she's actually older than I am. And she's sweet. Of course, she harbors a bit of malice towards your boyfriend there."

"Boyfriend?" Blue and Eyes cried in unison.

"Yeah, the Dr. House. Seems she's been carrying quite a torch for him, but he's not been kindhearted."

We parked outside the diner as Blue Eyes snorted in his turn. "Kindhearted had nothing to do with what Cameron wanted. I was never interested in her, and I made that clear."

Greg reclaimed his wheelchair, and we entered the diner. He was still goading Blue Eyes. "She tells a different story. Says she kissed you to distract you so she could get a blood sample and you knew what she was up to, but you took the opportunity to kiss her back. Not really a fair play, biped."

Blue Eyes led us to an empty booth. "Fair play has nothing to do with what _I _wanted."

I felt my enlarging belly churn as they bickered.

"Well, if it will ease your mind, biped, she has found an excellent way to work through her attraction to you, along with the infatuation of that gay doctor – what was his name?"

"Dr. Chase," I supplied.

"Yeah, that one," Greg agreed.

Blue Eyes asked, surprised, "You think Chase is gay?"

The waitress came to take our order: Greg and Blue Eyes both wanted a platter of pancakes with sides of bacon and sausage, and I ordered an omelet. You couldn't find grits in any restaurant north of Virginia.

"Yeah, that Dr. Chase has to be gay. He's so pretty."

"You're being an ass, Greg," I cautioned.

"Hey, I don't care if he's gay," Greg protested, "but if he _isn't_, then I need to give him a hand. I mean, he must spend half an hour just fixing his hair every morning."

Blue Eyes was concentrating. "Fixing his hair for what?"

Greg shook his head. "Fixing is a southern colloquialism. I should have sad arranging his hair. Aren't colloquialisms your bailiwick, Cissy?"

"Of course, along with seducing doctors and inviting rape." I was just a tad sarcastic.

Blue Eyes looked at Greg. "I think you've pissed her off, _Greg_."

"She's used to me," he said while smiling.

Blue Eyes welcomed his plate overflowing with artery-clogging food. "I want to hear about the other doctor you seduced."

"I didn't . . ." I began.

Greg interrupted. "The doctor who tried to kill me with gamma globulin infusions succumbed to Cissy's charms."

"Charms?" Blue Eyes asked.

"Could I get about a handful of those pain pills you take?" I asked Blue Eyes.

He shook his head. "So, Daisy Buchanan seduced your doctor? Sweet."

"I seduced no one," I protested lamely.

"Cissy would stay with me, day and night, looking anxious but paying attention to everything. She quickly knew more about the procedure than the nurses. I became dangerously dehydrated one weekend, and the nurses couldn't get hold of Dr. Michaels; by the time he finally called in, Cissy got him on the phone and ripped him a new one. He was at the hospital within fifteen minutes, and he was in love."

Blue Eyes stared at me between bites. "So, Daisy, you attract doctors by yelling at them? Did you throw up on his shoes, too? Did you punch him?"

"She punched you?" Greg asked B.E. excitedly. "Hot damm! No wonder you can't leave her alone."

B.E. shifted his gaze to Greg. "I can leave her . . ." he began.

"Aaron's interest in me was only fleeting," I stated.

"He was obsessed."

I sighed and gave up trying to eat. "He was a little on the obsessive side, yes. But we didn't have a romance."

B.E. continued chewing, but he turned his attention back to me. "You like to bandy about the word 'romance,' don't you? What I want to know is, did you have sex with him?"

"None of your business," I answered.

Greg, turning traitor, said, "They did it. And he liked it. Which is why he went a little insane when she called it off."

"An insane doctor? Surely you jest," Blue Eyes responded.

"Just so you can keep things in perspective, biped, you should realize you're the second doctor she took a restraining order out on. Although, apparently, she nullified the one on you fairly quickly."

"Excuse me." I cleared my throat. "Can we discuss something other than me? Please?"

Greg grinned. "But you're so fascinating, Cissy."

I groaned.

"Miss Nicole Diver, the temptress and callous heartbreaker of doctors both south and north," Blue Eyes said in an exaggerated television announcer voice.

"So, biped, she's already broken your heart, too?" Greg asked.

Blue Eyes blinked; he hadn't realized what he had said, the implications of his attempted humor and the revelation of his feelings. "No," he quietly replied, "not yet."

I watched his expression as he ate the last of his breakfast, busying himself with spearing the remains of the soggy pancakes while avoiding my questioning look.

"She will, though," Greg continued, seemingly impervious to the mounting tension between Blue Eyes and me. I felt Greg's youth as tangibly as I felt the glass of water I drank from. He had no idea how much Blue Eyes and I had to lose; he had no idea how guarded we both were, afraid to let the other come near. "Cissy is a femme fatale," Greg continued gaily.

"Women in their third trimester are seldom _fatale_," I quietly disagreed.

He caught my eyes, at last, and whispered, "I can definitely see her potential, though."

Once the boys finished their breakfasts, Blue Eyes drove us to the hospital parking garage and my truck. Greg pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket.

"I'm supposed to meet Eric at his gym – he wrote the directions for me. Do you want to come, too, Cissy?" Greg asked as he one-armed his wheelchair into the truck bed.

"I'm tired, Greg. Why don't you drop me at the apartment?"

Greg nodded, then he looked at Blue Eyes. "Want to come work out with us?"

Blue Eyes looked from Greg to me. "Are you okay?" he asked me with undisguised concern.

I was not okay; I was fatigued, but I was also plagued by a nagging at the back of my brain. Something in the diner conversation had triggered feelings of dread, of déjà vu. "Go play with the boys. I just want to lie down."

"Maybe I should take you back to my apartment. It'll be more peaceful there. You could rest." Blue Eyes was actually being considerate.

"Thanks, Blue Eyes, but I'd rather be in my own place."

B.E. nodded and allowed Greg to take me home. I shooed Greg away, encouraging him to go work out, and I found my comfortable sweat pants and my ancient Jackson Browne t-shirt and slid beneath the quilts on my futon. The apartment, cold and dark as it snowed outside, was womblike in its insularity. I fell asleep instantly.

My dream was jumbled and frightening. I was in the hospital, Princeton-Plainsboro, running through darkened halls and then up a dark stairway. I could hear the footsteps of my pursuer. I reached the top of the stairs and pushed through the door to the roof. There was no exit. He was behind me, grabbing me, pulling me to the floor. His voice, husky and panting, inflamed my mind as his words echoed through me. "Just be a good girl," he whispered, "and I won't hurt you." I was on the cold concrete, splayed out and at his mercy. His face filled my field of vision. He tore at my clothes; he tore at my body. I tried to scream, but his hand clamped down on my mouth, crushing the sounds back into my throat. The rape happened again, but this time the attacker was on top of me, ripping me apart. I pushed my head back, arching against the smothering hand, and felt agonizing cramps as the white lights on the hospital rooftop eclipsed everything else.

I awoke to my own screams as a stranger covered my face with a pillow and yelled to his accomplice to grab everything of value. Contractions seized my body, and I gave in to unconsciousness.

I fought to stay asleep, to remain in oblivion, but familiar voices coaxed me back. I opened my eyes to see the sleep-ravaged face of my brother. The instant he saw my eyes flutter open, he wheeled himself to the bed.

"Cissy," he whispered, stroking my hair.

"What?" I croaked.

He held a cup with a straw to my mouth, and I greedily drank. I had an IV again. My free hand reached down to feel my straining belly; I was still pregnant.

"Zelda?" I asked.

"Just rest," Greg whispered.

"No," I objected. "Tell me what happened."

The agony showed in his face. "A couple of guys broke into your apartment. Apparently, the shock sent you into premature labor. House has you on something to ease your contractions. I told him I'd call when you woke up." He grabbed the phone and dialed. "There," he said, replacing the phone, "I paged him."

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Greg was gone, but Blue Eyes was standing over me with his hand resting on my abdomen.

"We're giving you magnesium-sulfate to relax your uterine muscles and, hopefully, curtail your contractions. We're also giving you corticosteroids to speed up Zelda's lung development and broad spectrum antibiotics just in case you do deliver early," he said in a detached, professional voice. "You're only at twenty-eight weeks, and we'd like to get you to at least thirty-two weeks, but we have an excellent neonatal intensive care unit here if . . ."

"Zelda's all right?" I asked.

He nodded tersely.

"Blue Eyes," I pleaded.

He shifted his gaze from the bags hung on my IV pole to my face. His visage was stern and closed; I thought he was clenching his teeth.

"You nearly got yourself killed," he hissed accusingly. "And you've endangered your baby's life. All to live in that hovel."

"Blue Eyes," I whispered again. "I know who raped me."

He pulled a chair next to me and sat down, rubbing his hand over his face. I waited for his expression to soften.

"Someone you know?"

I nodded.

"I guess we need to contact the police."

"No."

He gave me a quizzical look. "I'm supposed to call them as soon as you're awake so they can question you about the robbery."

I waved my hands in dismissal. "I don't remember anything about the robbery. But the rapist. Blue Eyes, he's Zelda's father. If he finds out, he could demand parental rights. I don't want to surrender my baby to him."

"Tiger," B.E. began, "if he's arrested for and convicted of rape, he'll never be able to get close to Zelda."

I shook my head. "And what if he isn't convicted? He's a very important man. Since I only now realized who raped me, I doubt there would be a conviction. And, to be honest, I don't want to go through that."

"So, you'll just let the bastard go free?" he asked angrily.

I was torn. I wanted to forget, to return to ignorance. I closed my eyes. I felt the tears slide from beneath my eyelids.

"Tiger," Blue Eyes whispered, touching my cheek.

The wheels of Greg's chair bumped through the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," I answered, a false smile on my face.

"There's nothing wrong with the baby, is there?" he asked.

Blue Eyes stood. "Zelda's fine for now. We just have to hope your sister's contractions don't resume." He tried to reassure Greg, but I could read the anger on his face.

"How long will she be in here?"

"I'm keeping her here indefinitely. Besides, she doesn't need to return to that slum," B.E. said.

Greg nodded. "I've moved into the Radisson down the street, and I'll take care of packing up your belongings, Cissy. The advantage of being a lawyer is I yelled legal-speak and terrified your slumlord with threats of lawsuits. He graciously let you out of your lease." He looked to Blue Eyes for help. "Allison offered to help me find a suitable apartment for her. Do you have any suggestions?"

"I wouldn't rush," B.E. answered.

"Okay, Cissy, your turn to talk," Greg insisted.

"I don't want an apartment a teenager would choose."

B.E. almost smiled. "Cameron's not a teenager despite her appearance." He turned to Greg. "Could you give us some time alone?"

Greg almost said no, but he saw me tilting my head towards the door, and he said, "All right, biped, but I'll be back in an hour." He patted my hand and left me alone with B.E.

"I have a suggestion, Tiger," B.E. began. "Why don't you move in with me – temporarily, of course."

I was incredulous. "You've lost your mind."

The edge of his mouth tilted upward in a gentle smile. "Maybe. But your cornpone brother will need to leave after Christmas, and neither one of us likes the idea of you living alone, at least not while you're in danger of preterm labor. Even if you're released from the hospital, you'll be on complete bed rest since your cervix is 80 effaced and you're dilated 2 cm – meaning _no _traipsing around at all. You'll need someone to look after you."

"You?" I asked. "But you're such a private person; you love your solitude."

"And you read a lot. You're quiet. When you're not talking."

I shook my head in disbelief. "After the baby is born?"

"I'll help you find a nice apartment."

"Why would you go to so much trouble for me?"

Blue Eyes swallowed one of his pain pills. "If you insist on analyzing it in detail, or making more out of it than it is, I'll have to rescind my offer."

I never had the opportunity to either accept or decline his offer because my contractions started again, and a warm trickle of fluid signaled my water had broken.

"We want you to deliver Zelda vaginally, all right?" Blue Eyes asked, leaning very close to my face. "And we'd prefer not to use anything for pain – can you handle that?"

I nodded. I was overwhelmed knowing I was only hours away from holding my baby, my Zelda. Handling the pain of the contractions was a minor inconvenience. I tried to find a regulated rhythm for my breathing during the contractions.

Greg reappeared, only to be relegated to the waiting room. Blue Eyes called Dr. Castillo and Dr. Chase.

"Chase is an intensivist," Blue Eyes told me. "He'll take charge of Zelda in the NICU."

After several hours of intensifying contractions, Dr. Castillo examined me. "100 effaced and 8 cm dilated," she told Blue Eyes and me. "But the baby is in breach position."

Blue Eyes had me turn on my side. "Stay like this and let's see if we can get her to turn around." His face was solemn, and I could see beads of sweat dotting his hairline.

An hour later Dr. Castillo's exam revealed I was completely dilated and ready to push.

"Now you go to work," Blue Eyes told me. "Stay on your side and push at the top of your next contraction."

I did as he said; the contraction may have only lasted a minute or so, but it seemed an eternity. I was exhausted after pushing. But Blue Eyes smiled at me.

"Good job, Tiger. She's turned. Now let's keep going."

I pushed with each contraction for an hour before a gleeful Blue Eyes, after examining me, said, "She's crowning. Look up in the mirror. Can you see her, Tiger?"

I nodded.

Blue Eyes had two orderlies wheel me into a birthing suite. Dr. Castillo moved between my bent legs, and Blue Eyes stripped off his gloves and grabbed my hand.

"You're beginning another contraction. Take a deep breath and push, Tiger. Let's get Zelda out here."

He squeezed my hand as I pushed and panted with all my energy. After the third contraction, Blue Eyes whispered, "There's her head."

Dr. Castillo said, "Give me a few more good pushes, and Dr. House can cut the umbilical cord."

My eyes were shut as I concentrated on sending Zelda out into the big, ugly world, so I didn't see her tiny body slip into Dr. Castillo's waiting hands. But I heard Blue Eyes. "She's tiny, Tiger, but she's perfect."

I was wiping the sweat out of my eyes when Blue Eyes cut the umbilical cord and rushed Zelda into the NICU. I knew Dr. Chase was waiting for her. As I delivered the placenta, Blue Eyes came back to whisper in my year. "Thirteen inches, two pounds and thirteen ounces. She's on a respirator, but she looks good. Time of birth, 12:01 am, Christmas day."

Dr. Castillo returned. "I'll just take care of the episiotomy . . ."

Blue Eyes interrupted her, "Let me do that, Angela. I want to make sure she's nice and tight."

Dr. Castillo turned red, and I tried to kick him, but my leg was too weak from exertion. He winked at me before he ducked down to put in the stitches.

"How would you like to move to your room?" he asked me, quietly and gently.

"I want to see Zelda."

"Tiger, she needs to stay in intensive care where they can regulate her body temp and keep her on the ventilator. However, if you'll rest for a couple of hours, I'll find a wheelchair and take you to visit her."

"Greg?" I asked.

"He's plastered to the nursery window. Let's get you tidied up, and then I'll find him."

Alone in my room, Blue Eyes found a warm washcloth and cleaned my grimy face with it. His touch was easy and familiar. I relaxed as his hands ministered to me. He hummed.

"She's going to be all right, isn't she?" I asked.

"She's pink and pretty for a scrunched up, just born, squalling little girl. She's inherited your lung power."

"Fingers? Toes?"

"Ten of each. Do you want me to get something to help you sleep?"

"I want to see her, Blue Eyes."

"Let's wait until you've slept a few hours."

I threw back the sheet and pushed my legs over the side of my bed, knocking into Blue Eyes' groin.

"Whoa, wait," he stuttered.

"I'm going to see her, Blue Eyes, now. Not later."

"Damm! You are so stubborn. Let me get a wheelchair," he rambled. He leaned into the hall and bellowed, "Wheelchair, now!"

A nurse pushed one into the room.

"Here, princess, but let me help you . . ."

Before he could finish, I had already maneuvered myself into the chair. He unhooked the bags from the IV pole and handed them to me, and then we started off to find my daughter. My daughter.

She looked helpless, cordoned off in her incubator, strapped to a ventilator. A tiny thing. Blue Eyes brought Greg in with us, so we were there, all three, staring at my baby daughter.

"When will I be able to hold her?" I asked.

"After you've had some sleep, and we see how her lungs are doing, we'll check with Dr. Castillo and Chase for their approval. At the very least, you'll be able to touch her later today," Blue Eyes answered.

"She won't be able to nurse, will she? I wanted to breastfeed her," I lamented.

"A nurse will help you figure out a breast pump, so you can store milk for them to feed her until she's strong enough to suck."

"They store breast milk?" Greg asked, fascinated. "You mean, there's a refrigerator full of breast milk around here?"

Blue Eyes and I stared at Greg. "Your southern fried brother is a perv," Blue Eyes said.

"Apparently," I agreed.

Greg just grinned. "I'm the uncle," he said proudly. "What are you going to name her, besides Zelda?"

"I have an idea," I started.

"Isn't Zelda enough? I mean, you're already going to have to work to keep her from being a total geek with that name," Blue Eyes said.

"I'm southern. We give our children a lot of names."

His beautiful eyes bore into mine. "So, Audra Jeffrey, what's your other name?"

"She's named after our grandmother," Greg began.

"Don't you dare tell him," I hissed.

Blue Eyes danced around in anticipation. "Come on, man, give me the name."

Greg laughed. "I'm sorry, Cissy, but he cut the umbilical cord. He deserves something."

I put my head in my hands.

"Her middle name is Florine."

Blue Eyes' mouth dropped open. "Florine? Isn't that a chemical? You're named after a chemical? Oh, Zelda is not going to be named_ that_."

"I have no intention of naming Zelda after myself," I asserted. "I was thinking of naming her after my little brother."

Greg, his wheelchair next to mine, reached over and hugged me. "Aren't you sweet. So, you're going to name her _Greg_?"

Blue Eyes groaned.

"How about Zelda Gregory Jeffrey?" I asked.

"You'd better get her enrolled in self defense classes as soon as she can walk 'cause she's going to take a beating with that name," Blue Eyes said.

"I think it's a perfectly handsome name," I sniffed.

"You obviously need some sleep because you're incoherent," Blue Eyes said as he pushed my wheelchair, one-handed, out of the NICU.

I didn't think I'd sleep, but I lay in bed with my eyes closed, listening to Greg and Blue Eyes.

"I was thinking of something in white, all girly, with a pink comforter," Greg said.

"Not girly," Blue Eyes responded. "Something more traditional, like a Jenny Lind style crib. Dark wood. Maybe even an antique."

"Oh, right – Cissy just loves traditional stuff – _not_," Greg objected.

"You're right. Do they make post-modern baby furniture? The _Gravity's Rainbow_ line?"

"Good one, biped," Greg said, and they laughed together.

I marveled at these two men debating styles of baby furniture. I did dose off, finally, convinced Zelda and I were in good hands.

I didn't wake up until late morning. Jim was loitering in the doorway with a huge bouquet of flowers.

"Jim," I called, motioning him in. He set the flowers on a table beside a philodendron beribboned in pink from Joel and Terri Jacobs, and then took a seat beside me. "Have you seen her?" I excitedly asked.

"What I _could_ see of her. House and your brother won't leave her for an instant," he told me.

"She's going to be okay, don't you think?"

He patted my hand. "She's doing well, Audra. But how are you feeling?"

"I'm antsy. I want to hold her. I want to go home," I whined.

"From my conversation with House, I gather he has no intentions of letting you go back to your apartment," he said with an inquisitive tone in his eye.

"Now, Jim, don't jump to conclusions. Just because he invited me to move in with him _before_ Zelda was born doesn't mean the invitation is still open."

"Audra, I've known House for a long time, and I believe he's serious about you."

I wanted to ask him what he meant – how was Blue Eyes "serious" about me? Serious as in a romantic relationship? I studied Jim's handsome face and debated asking him, but, in the end, I couldn't put him on the spot. His loyalty had to remain with Blue Eyes.

"I know Blue Eyes wants to make sure Zelda has a safe place to go to, but I hardly think my presence, much less that of an infant, would do anything other than annoy him."

Jim took my hand and held it loosely in his. "Don't sell him short, Audra. He feels a bond with you, and with Zelda. I've never seen him this way about anyone before."

"Stacy?"

He shook his head. "They loved each other, definitely, but his feelings for you are more complex. He's protective of you, and I can't say I've seen House protective of anyone, ever. He's in new territory with you."

I looked down because I didn't want Jim to see the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "Jim, Blue Eyes just feels sorry for me. As soon as Zelda and I are healthy and housed in a respectable apartment, we won't need him so much, and he'll fall back into his normal routine."

Jim leaned closer to me. "I may be mistaken, Audra, but from what I've seen, you're not the one who needs House. He, in fact, is the one seeking you out at every opportunity. He may not realize it, but I believe he's finally found someone _he_ needs."

"Am I interrupting anything important?" Blue Eyes, poised in the doorway, asked with an edge of irritation in his voice.

Jim released my hand and stood up hastily, almost guiltily, and said, "Of course not, House. I was just telling Audra how well Zelda is doing."

Blue Eyes limped to my bed, nudging past Jim, and kissed my forehead. A proprietary kiss. A kiss of ownership. If he were a dog, he'd have peed on me.

Greg rolled in behind Blue Eyes, a poinsettia in his lap. "Merry Christmas, little mama!"

I laughed at the oversized plant obscuring Greg's face. "Where did you get such a plant?" I asked.

"I am a resourceful man," he answered.

Jim took the poinsettia and placed it on the table, too. He had been watching Blue Eyes, but he turned to Greg and said, "I haven't had anything even approaching a real meal today. How would you like to get some Chinese with me, Greg?"

Greg agreed, then asked Blue Eyes and me if we wanted them to bring anything back for us. Blue Eyes, of course, had an involved order, and Jim and Greg departed, bickering over the indecipherable menu Blue Eyes had scribbled for them.

As soon as we were alone, Blue Eyes sat beside me on the bed. He appeared on the verge of a serious conversation; unfortunately, the nurse, a lactation consultant, chose that precise moment to bring me the breast pump and to offer to show me how to use it.

Blue Eyes, with an agitated look, said, "Just leave the breast pump with me. I'll show Ms. Jeffrey how it works." The nurse looked uneasy and unwilling to leave, but Blue Eyes gave her his sternest stare and said, "Honest, I know how it works. I'll bring the colostrum and any milk we get back to you."

The nurse left, but not before giving me a pitying glance.

I assumed the same uneasy look of the nurse. "How do you know how to work a breast pump?"

"One of the many feats I mastered while bored. Here, slip your gown down," he said matter-of-factly.

"Whoa there," I began to object, but he impatiently grabbed my gown and exposed my left breast.

He affixed the electric pump over my nipple and turned it on. "How does it feel? Is the suction comfortable?"

I had a machine milking me. How could that ever, in any universe, be comfortable? Oddly, as the suction continued, I could feel my uterine muscles contracting. At first, the combined sensations were almost painful, but as my breast became acclimated to the suction, a small amount of liquid escaped. I looked up at Blue Eyes, but he was engrossed in the technicality of the enterprise. Or so I thought.

"You need to do each breast every two hours," he recited. "In a day or so, your milk will let down and you'll be filling the container with no difficulty."

He relaxed enough to glance at my face.

"You're smiling?" he asked.

"You're going to think I'm a fool, but it's kind of erotic," I admitted.

His lips tilted up at the corners in a naughty leer. "If the breast pump turns you on, just think what my mouth would do."


	11. Chapter 11: Coming Home

Chapter Eleven: Going Home

Three days later Dr. Castillo was ready to discharge me. Greg, still at the Radisson, offered to take me in. I declined. Blue Eyes had been silent throughout all of the family harangues (my parents were informed, although their survival method was to deny any grandchild until they were forced to face her), but negotiations to move me brought him to life.

"I would agree the Radisson is a viable alternative, but the Alabama attorney is only staying through the New Year, which would just mean another move. Staying with me is the best solution," he began his lecture.

"Blue Eyes, I don't think we are capable of cohabiting."

"One way to find out." He hesitated. "Look, you can come here with me every day and visit with Zelda. You have your laptop, so you can work on whatever the he!! it is you do."

"_Whatever I do_?" I asked, incensed. "I'm finishing an article on an English play, _Butley_, whose title character is a miserable misanthrope who loses his estranged wife and his best friend in the same day. _Originally_, as witty and macabre as it is, I thought it could only be English. Now, however, I've reconsidered, and I can very well see it as an American play. With an American main character. Wonder what ever made me change my mind?"

"Don't you mean 'who'?"

I stopped. "What?"

"Not what – who. Who made you change your mind."

"You did, you asshole."

Blue Eyes shook his head. "That's what I said."

I started flapping my hands in frustration, but he caught my wrist and pulled himself over to me. "Now, Mommy, play nice. And I expect you to pay half the rent since you're actually employed."

It was my turn to shake my head. "It will never work. We'll end up killing each other."

"Nobody said you couldn't use the time to find a more suitable apartment."

I wrenched my arm from his grasp, but before I could smack him he leaned over and kissed me sweetly on the lips. "Greg has had most of your stuff put in storage, but he'll bring your clothes and other personal things to my place as soon as we tell him."

"You've turned him against me," I accused.

"Be serious," he scolded.

They had me outnumbered.

As I was preparing to leave, a nurse brought me Zelda's birth certificate to complete. I wrote her name in the proper space and glanced through the information, noting Dr. Gregory House was listed as attending physician, but my vision blurred when I saw the name of the father. James E. Wilson! I screamed for a nurse and sent her to find Blue Eyes immediately. By the time he limped through the doorway, my blood pressure was at stroke level.

"Jim is Zelda's father!" I yelled.

"He is? You had sex with Wilson? Why am I the last to know?"

I grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and jerked him to within inches of me. "Change it."

"Now, Mommy, don't be hasty. Wilson would be a great father – he has plenty of money and he's very generous with it. Just ask any of his ex-wives."

"Why, in heaven's name, would you list him as the father? I thought you were best friends."

"We are," he answered. "And that's precisely why I put him down. He's so responsible."

I tugged on his shirt, nearly knocking him over. "Change it. I am not playing. Change it now."

He made a clucking noise he intended to be soothing; however, I was not to be soothed. "Listen," he started in a gentle voice, "if you list the real father, you give him access to Zelda, which I know you don't want to do. If you list the father as unknown, you leave open the possibility the rapist will somehow learn about Zelda and demand a paternity test. With a father listed, the chance of interference from a violent psychopath is greatly reduced."

"If you insist on giving her a father, then list your own damm self. Not Wilson. Do you hear me? Not Wilson." My face was hot with fury.

Blue Eyes held up his hands. "I'll remove Wilson's name. Okay?"

"Now," I ordered.

"Then unclench my f#cking shirt, Mommy."

I tugged on his shirt. "I'm from Alabama. It's 'Mama.'"

He placed his hands over mine. "Then unclench my f#cking shirt, Mama."

"Oh, sorry," I said, releasing his mangled shirt.

"Come on, let's go check on Zelda."

We went, hand-in-hand, to the NICU. I leaned against him as we stared at the tiny girl. She was sleeping peacefully. Blue Eyes fetched a chair for me; I settled down, and he released her from her incubated prison and placed her in my arms. She wiggled a bit, then relaxed back into slumber. She smacked her lips. Blue Eyes stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. I leaned my head back against him and looked up into his light blue eyes. He stooped over and rested his chin on the top of my head.

"She's going to be okay?" I asked.

"Of course, Mama."

"She's pretty? I was never pretty. But she's pretty, isn't she?"

He placed his lips on my forehead. "She's beautiful, just like her mama."

"Shut up."

"The truth hurts," he smirked.

We stayed that way in a hushed tableau until Blue Eyes' leg began to bother him. I sensed him fidgeting.

"You're hurting," I stated.

"My drugs are in my jacket."

I reached up with my right hand and grasped his hand on my shoulder.

"It's time to go," I reluctantly admitted.

He took Zelda from me and positioned her back in her prison. "Do you feel like walking back to your room?"

I let him help me from the chair. "Do we need to call Greg before we get to your apartment?"

He shook his head as we walked through the hallways. "He's out with Cameron. Why don't we pack up your breast pump and go home?"

Leaving the hospital was bittersweet: I left Zelda there. I knew I would see her the next morning, but, still, I felt bereft walking away from what she knew as home. Besides, entering Blue Eyes' apartment and its overwhelming maleness made me feel like an alien in an oxygen-free atmosphere.

"There's only one bedroom, Tiger. You willing to share?" Blue Eyes asked me.

"Does Greg know you've taken me home with you?"

He paused while directing me to his bedroom. "Do I need to ask his permission?"

"Wouldn't be a bad idea, Blue Eyes."

"Sh!t! I was hoping to spirit you away without the moral minority's interference," he said sarcastically.

"What is he doing with Allison? They're not . . ."

He grinned evilly. "They are indeed."

"Well, sh!t."

"Apparently, I wasn't the only cripple she found sexually desirable."

I slapped his arm. "Quit gloating."

"Can I help it if hot young women want me?"

I rolled my eyes at him in a dramatic fashion. "Be careful where you step; it's getting a little deep in here."

The bed was a tangled mass of sheets and blankets. I looked at it, then I looked at Blue Eyes.

"I have to sleep in this?"

"You don't _have_ to. You can sleep on the couch."

I sighed. I took my gym bag from him and rooted through it to find a clean t-shirt. He stood, impassive, watching me. Finally, I said, "I'm going to go to bed. Are you going to watch me while I change?"

He sat on the bed and replied, heartily, "Yep."

I walked around the bed and into the bathroom where I slipped on my Steely Dan t-shirt and a clean pair of sweat pants. When I reentered the bedroom, Blue Eyes had disappeared. I straightened the bed and wiggled onto one side. The silence was broken by a piano. I smiled to myself as I drifted off.

I woke up from a disturbing dream filled with dark figures and sensations of impending harm. The room was completely lightless. I stumbled out of the bed and felt my way into the hall and, then, the living room. A light from the kitchen illuminated Blue Eyes awkwardly nestled on the couch. I sat on the floor beside his head. In sleep, his face was unlined and peaceful. Serene. I ran my finger around the outline of his lips; his nose twitched. His hand automatically rubbed across his mouth as if relieving an itch.

"Blue Eyes," I whispered.

He swatted around his nose like he was chasing gnats.

I leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Huh?" he grumbled as his eyes flickered open. "Wha?"

"My articulate roommate," I teased.

His peaceful face brightened with a genuine grin. "Tiger," he purred. He extended his hand to weave his fingers through my hair. "What are you doing up? Did I wake you?"

"Yes, in fact, you did. Your thoughtless absence from the bed woke me out of a sound sleep."

"You missed me?" he queried.

I nodded.

He took my hand and pulled me to my feet and back into the bedroom. We snuggled together, him curled around me, my nightmares dispelled by the warmth of his arms. As I was falling asleep again, I heard him whisper, "Good night, Tiger."

I was with Zelda when Greg knocked on the nursery window and beckoned to me. I put my daughter back into her controlled habitant and met Greg in the hall.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

"Good." I examined him surreptitiously, searching for hickeys or fang marks. "And how are you?"

He grinned an insanely giddy grin. His youth and handsomeness made my heart stutter. "I'm just perfect. Perfect."

I started slapping him on his arms. "You bastard," I fumed. "You go off with that horny infant and leave me to fend for myself. Where the he!! did you think I was going to go when they kicked me out, huh?"

He held his arms up to deflect my powerless blows. "Hold on, Cissy. Your doctor _told_ me he had everything taken care of. He insisted you wanted to move in with him. He told me, however, you were uneasy about breaking it to me and that I should amuse myself elsewhere while he eased you out of here and into his place. Not true?"

I balled my right hand into a fist and whacked his arm as hard as I could manage. "You moron. Since when do you believe _him_?"

"Jesus, that hurt!" he winced. "He's f#cking in love with you. Why shouldn't I believe him?"

"He said that?" I cried.

"No. What? No, but he didn't have to. He's much easier to read than he knows."

I threw up my arms in disgust. "So you're blaming him for your rendezvous with Allison?"

"More like I should thank him."

"You are nothing but a bundle of hormones."

"Cissy, are you finished hitting me?"

"When are you leaving?"

He visibly relaxed. "To go back to Virginia? The day after New Year's. But you know I'm always available for you. And for that scrawny daughter you have."

"So, this thing with Allison is just a temporary thing?"

"What, like I'm killing time? Come on, Cissy, you know me better than that. I like her. She's smart. She's sweet. Now, since I've answered your questions, why don't you tell me about you and the biped?"

"Bite me."

Greg laughed. "But you are living with him?"

"It's temporary."

"Just killing time?" he snickered.

"Greg, what makes you say Blue Eyes is in love with me?"

"Damm, Cissy, does the man have to hire a skywriter? He moved you in with him. This guy doesn't flit around extending such invitations to every new mother he treats. Don't you get it?"

"Greg, he just feels sorry for me. About the rape."

"For a very smart woman, you are acting incredibly dense. If he pities you he gives you a prescription for some really fun meds. He doesn't take you home. Has it occurred to you to talk to him? With, let's say, words?"

I looked over Greg's head and into the nursery where Zelda was sleeping. "You may have a point, little brother. I do need to talk to him." I needed to talk to him about the rape. I couldn't tell Greg I had realized who the rapist was, but I could tell Blue Eyes. And, odd though it felt, I _wanted_ to tell him about it. I wanted to confide in him, the man who had callously revealed my past at every inappropriate opportunity.

Greg and I traveled down to Blue Eyes' office so we could persuade him to have lunch with us. We heard the heated exchange before we reached the door to the conference room. I was going to presumptuously barge right in, but Greg caught my arm and held me back.

"You end things with me because I had the audacity to fall in love with you, but you take up with the very next guy you meet. Can you explain this to me?" an Australian accent demanded.

"Why are you so upset? You weren't happy with our arrangement, so what gives you the authority to criticize me when I find someone else to meet my sexual needs?"

I didn't recognize the female voice, but because Greg's grip on my arm increased until I thought my hand would turn blue, I assumed it was Allison.

"So this Greg is just a plaything? Just another substitute for your fixation with House?"

"I've told you, I'm over House," she said in an exasperated but uninspired voice.

My protective feelings for Greg flooded my body, and I strode angrily into the room and the conversation with a head full of hateful comments.

"My brother is your plaything? You b!tch!" I slapped her squarely across the face.

Dr. Chase grabbed me, shoving me away from Allison. Greg rolled in and began apologizing.

"Allison, are you okay? I'm sorry for Cissy – she's hormonal."

"I'm not hormonal; I'm outraged she could be so callous." Dr. Chase was still holding my arms and blocking me from Allison, who was holding her cheek and crying.

"Audra, you walked in on a private conversation," Dr. Chase warned me in a controlled voice. "You have no business interfering. If Allison and Greg need to sort out their, uh, arrangement, they can do it without any help from us."

"But . . ." I stammered.

I felt a familiar hand around my elbow, unrelentingly pulling me around. Blue Eyes stared at me with angry eyes. "Tiger, you need to leave."

"Oh, this is just the kind of thing you live for. You don't care who gets hurt as long as the women all revere you."

He jerked me into the doorway. "Shut up," he snarled.

Maybe I was hormonal. Or tired. Or bordering on insanity. Tears uncontrollably poured down my face. "Let go of my arm. I need to leave."

Blue Eyes released me and I fled the scene as quickly as I could. Without thinking, I found myself on the roof. The sky was heavy with unfallen snow, and the wind cut through my light jacket as if nonexistent. I welcomed the sting of the freezing temperature on my bare face. The discomfort was deserved. I embarrassed my sweet brother. I embarrassed Blue Eyes. I was losing my ability to function outside the confines of the NICU.

I didn't know how long I had been standing, shivering, looking out across the hospital grounds, when I heard the approach of a man. A man without a cane.

"I've always had a weakness for women who defend their men, even if they didn't need to," the soft voice said.

I turned my head away. "I'm such an ass, Jim. I'm worse than Blue Eyes."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't claim that crown just yet."

I looked at him. "I know I've done nothing but impose on you, but I need to get out of here. I rode in this morning with Blue Eyes; is there any chance you could give me a lift to his apartment? I need to get away from here."

"Running away from this won't resolve anything," he began, but when he saw my pale, tear streaked face, he held out his arms in a gesture of surrender. "I don't have an appointment for another hour. Come on." He led me down the stairs and out to his car.

My teeth were all but grinding on the drive. Jim remained silent, although I felt his eyes assessing me. When we reached the apartment, I stopped Jim from getting out. "Jim, you've been a great friend, but I need to take care of some things on my own. I hope you understand."

He nodded reluctantly. "Audra, I've known House for a long time. Don't be hasty."

"I appreciate your kindness," I answered. I leaned over and kissed Jim's cheek and exited his car.

I stomped around the apartment, gathering the few things I had there. Greg was driving my truck, so I called a cab and poised on the edge of the sofa, waiting. My cell phone rang, and I automatically answered it without thinking.

"Tiger, Zelda's in respiratory distress. Her lungs . . . "

"I'm on my way," I interrupted him.

I had the cab ferry me back to the hospital.

Blue Eyes told me, when I reached the NICU, they had been administering low doses of inhaled nitric oxide to help prevent her developing bronchopulmonary dysplasia; BPD, he told me, was associated with increased risk of ongoing lung problems such as pulmonary hypertension (high blood pressure in the arteries that supply blood to the lungs), sensitivities to secondhand smoke, asthma, and respiratory infections; neurodevelopmental problems such as cerebral palsy; learning disabilities; impaired growth; and cardiovascular problems. However, for an unknown reason, Zelda had not reacted favorably to the iNO and was not only back on the ventilator, but was being put on a heart-lung machine.

Blue Eyes was grim as he explained, "The use of the heart-lung machine increases her risk of long-term complications."

"I can deal with long-term complications," I replied. "What I can't deal with is losing her." I watched, impotent, as the doctors and nursed fussed over Zelda.

Blue Eyes continued supplying medical information. "They're administering surfactant with an endotracheal tube. It will coat the inside of the alveoli, preventing collapse and keeping the alveoli open even after the treatment. Hopefully, this will get her breathing back to a manageable standard so we won't have to continue the heart-lung machine."

"Just make sure they fix her," I uttered, tight-lipped, and retreated to the mother's lounge to express milk. Seeing Zelda so endangered had immediately triggered the let-down reflex.

B.E. bulled his way into the lounge after me. "You understand the dangers, right?" he demanded.

I was using a hand pump and continued, ignoring his intrusion. "Of course. Does she have an infection?"

"Not that has shown up yet, although her temp is rising."

"Leave me alone," I responded while I pumped away.

"Tiger," he whispered.

"Leave me alone, now, Blue Eyes."

He limped out making a muttering, guttural, incomprehensible complaint.

I didn't leave the hospital the two days Zelda was at her most vulnerable, sleeping briefly on a couch in the waiting room when I could. Greg stayed with me most of the time, but we maintained a necessary silence. Blue Eyes was wherever he was, with Zelda and her care team when he thought it was necessary and somewhere else when he didn't think his presence was required. For two days I kept my own counsel. During my darkest moments, I saw my daughter, my brother, and, well, Blue Eyes, slipping away from me. Talking was not a good idea for me and my diarrhetic mouth. Every moment my only goal was not to cry.


	12. Chapter 12: Who Okayed the Guest List

Chapter Twelve: Who Okayed the Guest List

Early morning on New Year's Eve, I was awakened on the uncomfortable waiting room sofa by the gentle hand of Dr. Chase. As I tried to right myself and clear my mind, he sat on the chair next to me.

"Zelda's breathing is much improved," he began in earnest. "We're removing the heart-lung machine. We're hoping she will be able to breathe on her own."

"Her temperature?" I asked.

"Normal right now. I can't make any promises, but as of this minute, we have reason to be optimistic."

"Any permanent damage?"

"Not that we can tell." He smiled his Australian smile of flawlessly white teeth and stood. He ran a hand through his impeccably coifed hair and opened his mouth to speak again. "Audra, if you want to see her, to hold her, you can suit up and go in."

I jumped to my feet.

"Just one thing." He stopped me. "House is with her."

I nodded my thanks and proceeded into the unit anyway.

I quietly entered the area with Zelda's incubator. Blue Eyes sat in a chair, awkwardly holding her. She still had tubes running in and out of her; Blue Eyes cradled her near his heart, mindful of her medical appendages, and he was quietly singing "Rockin' Robin." I sat in a chair next to him. He glanced at me, inclined his head quickly, and returned his attention to Zelda, never missing a word of the song. I tucked the blanket around her miniature feet, and she moved her arm in response. Her dark eyes were glued to the impossibly blue ones of her serenader. After finishing his unusual choice of lullaby, Blue Eyes handed her to me, helping to situate her in my anxious arms, helping me to keep from disconnecting anything of importance.

She scrunched up her face and prepared to scream; I turned, nervously, to Blue Eyes. He leaned over my shoulder, stroked her cheek with his long index finger, and hummed "They Call it Puppy Love." Zelda rubbed against his finger, rooting for a nipple. My milk let down and leaked through my clothes. Blue Eyes noticed.

"She probably isn't strong enough to suck still, but why don't you let some drip into her mouth?" he suggested.

I nervously uncovered my left breast, and the milked dripped all over her petite face, a few drops landing in her mouth. I was terrified I'd drown her, but Blue Eyes, standing behind me, stroked my shoulder encouragingly.

"You could make a decent living as a professional wet nurse," he whispered in my ear.

"I seriously think I'd upset Zelda, or I'd get up and beat the living he!! out of you," I whispered back.

"Glad to hear you still love me," he retorted.

My voice caught in my throat.

"Here, let's shift her and give your other breast a chance to submerge her," he continued nonplussed, maneuvering Zelda so that she was underneath my right breast. Milk flowed over her face as before with only a few drops actually landing near her mouth.

A few minutes later a nurse came over to change Zelda's diaper and return her to her bed. I reluctantly surrendered her. Blue Eyes led me out of the NICU; my t-shirt was soaked with unused milk. Blue Eyes slipped away and returned with a scrub top, and I replaced my soggy shirt with it. I didn't bother changing in private, but did so right in front of Blue Eyes. He had just witnessed me trying to breastfeed a baby unable to breastfeed; humility would have seemed fraudulent.

We were met in the hall by Greg and Allison. I leaned over and hugged Greg.

"She's breathing on her own?" he asked.

"For the moment, yes," I replied.

Allison hid uneasily behind Greg, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"You need some rest, Cissy," Greg said worriedly.

"I'm taking her home," Blue Eyes interjected. "Back to my, our, apartment," he added while staring pointedly at Allison.

There had been a time when I would have appreciated his comment to Allison, but now I only felt fatigue and confusion.

"I'd like to see you later," Greg said while holding my hand.

Blue Eyes exerted control. "Give me a call this evening. I'm sure, after she's had some sleep, she'll be glad for company to greet the New Year."

I allowed him to speak for me. I allowed him to shepherd me out of the hospital and into his car, and, once we got there, into his apartment. The gym bag crammed with my things was no longer beside the sofa where I had abandoned it prior to my flight to the NICU. I glanced around the living room, taking stock. I walked to the coffee table and lifted a book.

"_Quartermaine's Terms_," I said, holding the text of one of Simon Gray's plays. My book.

"Greg and I moved some of your things in. I wanted you to have what you needed for work, for your, well, for your comfort."

I clutched the book to my breasts. "Blue Eyes, I had been planning to leave when Zelda became so ill."

"Yes," he said as he limped into the kitchen and brought back a couple of beers. He opened one and handed it to me. I hadn't had anything alcoholic to drink in six months. The very cold drink tasted wonderful.

"I can't stay," I persisted.

"Of course," he continued, sitting on the sofa and patting the cushion for me to join him.

"Seriously."

"I am being serious.

I sat beside him and leaned against him. "About the rapist. . ."

"If you're going to tell me who it was, think twice. I won't be happy to know his identity," he warned.

"It doesn't matter except I need to tell someone. I realized, in a dream, I knew his voice."

Blue Eyes snatched a bottle from the end table and shook out one of his pills. As he swallowed it, he said, "And you'd rather tell me than your brother?"

"My brother would kill him."

"But I wouldn't?"

I laughed. "No, you'd be more likely to tell everyone who he was – who raped me. He!!, you'd probably take an ad in the paper."

"If you believe that, then why do you want to tell me?"

"Good question. I don't have a good answer, except that someone should know."

We drank without speaking for a while. Blue Eyes turned on the television and flipped through the shows, finally landing on a historical documentary about Tututkamen. My eyelids were heavy and about to close when he got up to retrieve two more beers.

"Greg's doctor. Aaron Michaels," I blurted when he sat back down.

"You were in love with him once?"

I felt the tension in the arm he wrapped about my waist. "Once. Maybe." I paused. "You've been in love. You know what it feels like, how to recognize it, but I don't. I was never in love with my ex-husband. Never. And Aaron, well, it was an affair. It was fun and passionate and, then, it wasn't fun, and the passion was not just passion, it was controlling and unpredictable. Frightening. There had been a time when I had been physically intimidated by him, but that was years ago. The idea he was keeping tabs on me and would attack me never occurred." I had been talking rapidly; I slowed down and drank some of my beer. "I don't know how to tell if I'm in love."

"Love isn't all it's cracked up to be," he said with an undercurrent of bitterness I didn't expect.

"But you were happy with Stacy, weren't you?"

"I thought so," he snapped. "As things happened, we weren't both getting what we needed."

"What do you need?"

He took a while to answer. "The answer to that question changes. Mostly, I have what I need. My job, my friendship with Wilson, the odd woman."

The odd woman. I wanted to spring off the sofa and pack all over again.

"But sometimes," he continued, "I feel a need for something more. For someone more."

"And that's why you started dating Stacy again."

He snorted. "We didn't date. She juggled, and I soared up and down. I was the ball."

"So she extracted her pound of flesh."

He flexed his right leg. "More than a pound, I'd say."

"Why am I here with you?" I didn't really want an answer, but the time had come.

"Because I want you here, and, I think, you want to be here."

"Because you feel sorry for me."

He laughed. "Feel sorry for you? No, madam, I don't. You're smart and capable and assertive – you get what you want."

He was so wrong about me. How could he know so little?

"Blue Eyes, I'm incapable of getting what I want. I'm trapped in a life of obligations. I take care of everyone else. I never concentrate on what I want."

"You thrive on your obligations," he said. Then he added, "And, if you can't always see what you want, maybe I can help you figure it out."

And maybe that was where he fit in. Maybe he gave me the freedom to finally examine my own desires and aspirations. Maybe he allowed me to relax my death grip on life just long enough to feel good.

I slept all afternoon. When I woke up, Blue Eyes had just returned from the hospital.

"Zelda's still breathing on her own," he whispered to me.

I was sprawled out on his sofa. "I need to go see her," I muttered as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"No," he directed. "Chase is there for the evening. He'll call if anything happens. You need to rest."

"No," I began.

"Little Mama, your deep-fried brother is leaving day after tomorrow. I told him to come over this evening and spend some time with you. So, don't 'no' me."

"But," I stammered, sitting up.

"Wilson's coming over with some food. I bought the booze." I finally noticed he was carrying a weighted-down bag into the kitchen.

"You're having a party?"

"He!!, no," he exclaimed from the other room. "Just some people coming over. Some want to see you, and some want to see me."

Indeed, Jim and Dr. Cuddy arrived around nine with arms laden with luscious food. I walked to Jim's car to help him unload, and he stopped me long enough to inquire after my health.

"I'll be great once Zelda has been released," I told him. He nodded in understanding. "You're with Dr. Cuddy," I continued. "Does that mean there _is_ a romance?"

"No, we're just friends," he demurred, but the shy way he shook his head and avoided eye contact belied his words.

"The best romances start with friendships, Jim."

"Maybe," he answered as we returned to the apartment.

Blue Eyes had the food and the libations scattered over the kitchen table. I tried to assist Dr. Cuddy as she arranged everything in an orderly fashion. She poured herself a glass of white wine and offered me some. I declined but poured myself a healthy splash of Grey Goose over a few ice cubes. Dr. Cuddy's eyes widened at my choice, but I turned away from her and gulped. I heard a knock on the door and Blue Eyes yelling for the offender to enter. I walked into the hall looking for Greg.

And I not only saw Greg, but Allison was with him as well. I swallowed the rest of my vodka and went back for more. Dr. Cuddy returned to the living room, but Greg rolled into the kitchen looking for me.

"Can you find me two beers?" he asked.

"One for you and one for Allison?"

"No flies on you, Cissy."

"Greg, why did you bring her here?" I whined.

"Because I didn't think you'd slap her again."

"Greg," I continued, "didn't you hear the conversation she was having with Dr. Chase? They were lovers."

"Yes, I heard them. And I already knew they had been f#ck buddies."

My mouth dropped. "You knew?"

Greg took the two opened beers I handed him. "Your little brother has been around the block a time or two, Cissy. I'm not the idiot you seem to remember."

"But she's infatuated with Blue Eyes."

He nodded. "She's infatuated with the person she thinks he is. However, her infatuation is no more real than if she were fantasizing about that doctor on that TV show – that McDrooly guy. It's the same thing. The biped is just a fantasy figure to her. Me, I'm real. I'm real, and I'm here."

"And Dr. Chase?"

Greg smiled. "He'll be here to help her try to forget about me when I'm gone." He winked at me and wheeled himself into the other room. I heard him calling to Allison.

I pulled out a chair and sat down alone in Blue Eyes' kitchen. Zelda was real to me. Greg was real to me. And Blue Eyes was real to me. I wished, at that moment, I had never left Alabama.

Jim startled me with his quiet entrance. I knew, when I looked at him, he saw the unshed tears in my eyes. He took a chair near mine and poured lukewarm scotch into his empty glass. Finally, he spoke. "House sent me to check on you."

"He wouldn't come himself?"

"He's afraid."

I refilled my glass. "Of what?"

"Of losing you would be my guess."

I looked back into his face. "He never said that."

"Of course not."

"Then tell me why he sent you in here."

Jim grimaced. "He told me to make sure you weren't drinking all the scotch."

"You may tell him I prefer vodka."

"Audra."

"I want to, Jim. I swear I do. But there are too many ghosts. Stacy, Allison, god only knows who else. I'm not made of stone."

"He isn't, either."

"Bullsh!t, Jim. The man was born of steel."

Jim hesitated, thinking. Finally, he asked, "Have you seen Zelda's birth certificate?"

"Yes. I'm sorry about that. I made him change it."

"You made him change it? But why? Audra, it was what he wanted."

"Jim, he can't just assign fatherhood to someone because he wants to," I objected.

He shook his head in confusion. "He thought he was giving you a gift."

I shook my head in confusion. "It wasn't his gift to give."

Our stalemate was interrupted by more noise at the door. I turned to see Dr. Chase letting himself in.

"Oh, sh!t," I muttered.

Jim stood. "What?"

"Dr. Chase."

"You're not going to slap him, too, are you?"

I looked at Jim and laughed. "I'm in the slapping mood tonight, Jim. I just might."

We moved to join the others and watch the fireworks, but there was another knock on the front door. I motioned for Jim to go on into the living room while I answered it. If only I had stayed hidden in the kitchen.

Stacy backed up when she saw me. I turned and yelled, "Blue Eyes, woman for you!" Then I stepped into the bedroom and closed its door. And I knew she knew it was Blue Eyes' bedroom.


	13. Chapter 13: Distances

Chapter Thirteen: Distances

I thought about rounding up my belongings in preparation of leaving. Again. Then I considered turning on my laptop and doing some actual work on my online classes. Then, finally, I sat by the door and listened.

Her perfect voice had a perfectly shrill quality to it. "Greg," she said, "was that the pregnant woman from the university? Did she just go into your bedroom? Oh, I shouldn't have come here."

Blue Eyes leaned against the bedroom door. I heard him tapping his cane on the floor. "Why are you here, Stacy?" He sounded neither angry nor surprised, just mildly curious.

"We haven't talked in a while. It's New Year's Eve. I wanted to see how you were," she explained perfectly.

"I'm fine. Dandy. I'm fine and dandy."

"Yes, I see. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have intruded."

The front door closed, and then the bedroom door banged into my back. Blue Eyes peered through the crack. "Move, Tiger."

"Piss off," I whispered.

I heard him drop his cane and slide down onto the floor. His head was aligned with mine, his lips against the crack in the door. "Pouting isn't as effective if no one knows you're doing it."

"I said . . ."

"I heard you. And you heard her, yes?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Then you know I've not been in contact with her, yes?"

"None of my business," I answered.

"I agree. However, your pouting would indicate you believe it _is_ your business."

"Why don't you fetch me that bottle of Grey Goose?"

"If you want vodka, come out here and get it. This cripple doesn't deliver."

"Don't you need to go referee Greg and Dr. Chase?"

"Greg can handle Chase."

I didn't doubt him.

"Tiger, do you intend to leave me here, unkissed, at midnight?"

I leaned over, my head in my hands. I was making a mess of everything.

"Tiger," he whispered again. "Everyone is wondering why I'm sitting on the floor outside the bedroom door. From the looks Wilson is giving me, he's about to come offer to help me up. Don't make me endure this."

"How many other women have the possibility of stopping by here tonight?"

"What?" His voice rose.

"How many past relationships could stop by for a look-see?"

He grunted. "If we were in Alabama, how many men would I have to encounter? An ex-husband, an ex-doctor-turned-rapist, and how many others?"

"It's not the same thing," I argued. "I haven't been dating anyone."

"Of course you haven't," he began to yell. "You've been f#cking pregnant! How could you date anyone?"

I stood up and continued through the cracked door. "Judging from your behavior the last four months, I was dating _you_. And no one else."

He knocked against the door as he struggled to get to his feet. "What an amazing imagination you have. You should try _creative_ writing instead of that literary sh!t."

I threw myself against the door, slamming it into him. He yelped as it hit his leg. I turned the lock on the door and retreated to the bed.

"Anything wrong?" I heard Greg ask.

"Just your idiot of a sister," Blue Eyes replied before he limped off.

Greg tapped lightly on the door. "Cissy, open up."

"Piss off," I yelled.

I heard him move away from the door. Any exuberant celebrating did not sift through the walls. I couldn't hold back the tears. I also couldn't stop my milk from leaking, so I got the breast pump to express more milk for Zelda; she had so much refrigerated and frozen she'd be using it to toast her wedding.

The sounds of scraping at the door knob drew my attention. I heard a frustrated, "F#ck!" and then the screws twirled right out of the mechanism. Within a few minutes the door knob had been removed, and the door swung in.

You owe me a new door knob," he said as he set the screwdriver on the bedside table and limped over to the bed. "Five minutes until midnight. You had better finish pumping because you _will_ be kissing me when the new year begins."

I carefully removed the pump and placed it and the milk beside the bed. "Are you in love with her?"

He sat on the bed and held my face tightly between his hands. "Not now. Do you hear me?"

"Of course I hear you. But can I trust you?"

He released me. "I don't know. I won't make predictions or promises. But, Tiger, right now I want to start with you. With you, your bullying brother, your puny daughter, and all of your southern idiosyncrasies and idiosyncratic family members."

The guests began loudly counting down from ten. Blue Eyes stared unrelentingly at me. Finally, just as "zero" was shouted out, I pulled him to me and kissed him with all the fervor and passion I had been holding in reserve. I relaxed as he returned my kiss, absorbing him into me. He fought to pull away from me briefly.

"Wait," he whispered.

He used his cane to shove the door closed; however, with no way to latch, it just swung back and forth.

"Sh!t," he muttered. "Stay right here. I have to get rid of some people."

I watched as he struggled up and out of the room. I grinned as I heard him unceremoniously telling everyone to leave.

"Okay, Happy New Year, yeah yeah. Now, get the he!! out of my apartment. All of you. I have a door to repair."

As soon as the apartment had been cleared of extraneous people, Blue Eyes came back into the bedroom, champagne under his arm and two flutes in his left hand. He handed the glasses to me, opened the champagne, and poured a toast for each of us.

To what are we toasting?" I asked.

"To a healthy year for Zelda," he replied.

We both sipped our champagne, our backs against the headboard. He started chuckling, so I had to know what was on his mind.

"Oh, just your crazy brother and Chase."

"They didn't get into an argument, did they?" I asked in shock.

"No, no, not at all. Greg, however, maintained, in a polite way, that Chase was gay."

"What?"

"He was almost subtle. He asked Chase what type of moisturizer he used, and the clueless wombat told him." He shook his head at the memory. "Chase didn't catch on until Greg tried to give him the email address of a lawyer he knew – a gay lawyer. Chase turned seven shades of purple. I think _I_ might have fallen a little bit in love with Greg when he did that."

"I bet Allison was embarrassed."

"She didn't seem to be. I think she enjoyed Chase's discomfort."

"My brother is such an ass."

Blue Eyes snapped his fingers. "Yes, that's why I like him so much."

"You do have a lot in common, you know. What about Dr. Cuddy and Jim? A romance?"

"Wilson doesn't have time for a romance. He has all of his oncology wonder work to do. And there's me, of course."

"Yeah, but now you're spending so much time with Zelda and me, maybe he's feeling a void he wants to fill," I suggested.

"Oh, there's a void he wants to fill, all right."

"You are such a horndog," I scolded, but he was so relaxed and almost carefree, I had to smile with him.

We drank the bottle of champagne together and, eventually, fell asleep entangled.

The next morning I woke early and started cooking the black-eyed peas. Greg called and we agreed to meet at the hospital so we could visit Zelda. Blue Eyes heard the commotion and demanded to go with me.

Zelda was still breathing unaided. Blue Eyes checked her over carefully before allowing Greg to hold her.

"She's okay?" I asked nervously.

"You saw me. Her gas tank is full and the transmission is in good condition. She'll be as good as any other new born once she gains a few pounds."

Greg was smiling at his niece. "She has your mouth, Cissy."

"I can only see the resemblance when she's squalling," Blue Eyes interjected.

"Greg needs no help making fun of me, thank you very much," I told B.E.

He patted my ass as we stood behind Greg's chair, and I responded with an appropriate yelp.

"Get a room, you two," Greg scolded.

I sat down beside Greg and clamored for my turn at the little girl. Blue Eyes helped make the transfer, then said he'd see us in his office.

"What are you going to do?" Greg asked me.

"About what?"

"About the biped. Are you going to continue living with him? You'll need more room before you bring Zelda home."

"I haven't thought about any of this, Greg. Maybe I should find my own place."

Greg grinned. "Yeah, Cissy, you do that. You go find your own place to set up camp with Zelda and see how long in takes before Daredevil Diagnostician shuts you down."

I looked at him with a great deal of curiosity. "What makes you think he cares anything about me?"

"Look, Allen was an ass, but not one you could ever deal with. He was from a different planet. And Dr. Michaels was just plain psycho. But the biped, he has potential. The two of you have chemistry."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh my god, Greg, I can't believe you just uttered such a tired cliché."

He nodded. "Maybe it is a cliché, but in this instance, it is accurate."

I rocked Zelda and thought about what Greg had said.

Our time was limited, and we were soon shooed out of the NICU. We had just reached the hallway outside the conference room when I heard Allison's voice. I held out my hand for Greg to stop.

"Why won't you at least give me a chance? Do you know how hard it's been, watching Stacy tear you apart, and now this, this, woman?" Her voice betrayed her desperate emotions.

Before Blue Eyes could answer, I strode into the room with every intention of slapping her again. Even with a cane, Blue Eyes was quick and had me blocked before I could get within reach of Allison.

"Hang on, Tiger," he cautioned.

"What is your problem?" I yelled at the skinny girl. "You had Chase, who, I might add, isn't gay, but you weren't satisfied. Blue Eyes doesn't want you, but you refuse to listen. And my poor, sweet brother is just someone for you to abuse."

"You don't know what it's like, wanting him to pay me some attention, only to see him with other, older women."

I struggled in earnest.

"Damm, Allison, could you watch your mouth," Greg said from the doorway. "You're pissing off the wrong person."

"Greg, don't tell me you're not offended by this girl's immaturity?" I wailed.

"Cissy, this is between Allison and Dr. House. Now, come on, let's go get the truck and leave."

Greg's eyes were clear and focused. If he could walk away from the woman he had been spending every spare minute with since he got to Princeton, then, I decided, I needed to walk away, too.

"Let go of me," I snarled at Blue Eyes.

He complied, but his look was wary. I adjusted my clothing and followed Greg out the door.

We went to the Radisson and set up residence in their bar. I ordered very strong bloody marys because, after all, it wasn't quite lunch time. Greg drank a beer.

"I thought you saw something worthwhile in Allison?" I asked him.

I did. I still do. You need to give her a chance."

"A chance? After what we just heard? Who turned you into a permanent doormat?"

"Cissy, stop. I don't know why you're so upset she was talking to the biped. She had to ask him – she, at least, wants to get rid of her baggage before she moves forward."

"Wait a minute, slick. Are you telling me her propositioning Blue Eyes is _her _way of shedding the past and moving into the future with you? Because, if that's what you think . . ."

Greg interrupted me, "I never said she and I had a future together. However, I do admire her for confronting your blue-eyed doctor to find out where she stands. If he really has no interest in her, he'll convince her, and she'll be able to let go. On the other hand, if anything he says even vaguely implies she has a chance with him, she'll continue to hang on."

"And this helps you how?"

"This isn't about me, Cissy. If Allison decides your doctor really doesn't want her, then my suspicions about the biped carry more weight."

"Maybe I'm just slow, but what the f#ck are you talking about?"

"If your doctor convinces Allison he's not interested, it's because he's interested in _you_."

I shook my head and emptied my glass. "Are you sure you're a lawyer? Did you really graduate? I mean, I saw you walk across the stage – did you pay someone to fake it?"

"What do you think the biped will tell her?"

"Is there a full moon? There must be a full moon because you are all acting freaking insane."

"I repeat," Greg said deliberately, "what do you think your doctor will tell her?"

I closed my eyes. "I think he'll tell her he's not sure about their 'chemistry,' but that he wants to give it a go. However, he'll explain to her he doesn't want to upset me in my delicate condition, so they need to keep things out of sight."

He leaned close to me. "Do you honestly believe your doctor would suggest an affair with Allison?"

"Why not? He had one with Stacy."

I drank until I was inebriated. Mid afternoon, Greg and an obliging, darkly ethnic waiter with a thick accent that rendered him almost incomprehensible, helped me into Greg's room. I tried to persuade the waiter to marry me and carry me away to his native homeland, but Greg intervened. Almost immediately, I was immured in alcoholic sleep with the promise of a torturous hangover in the future.

My thumping head awoke me around three in the morning. Greg was in the other bed, snoring contentedly. I scribbled a brief note letting him know I'd pick him up at seven to ferry him to the airport. Then, I reclaimed my truck and headed for the hospital.

I was holding Zelda, experimentally encouraging her to suck my nipple, when Dr. Chase entered. He leaned against the wall and watched me in silence.

"Insomnia?" I asked him.

"Actually, yes. It comes and goes."

"Greg is leaving this morning, so you'll be rid of him at last."

"Your brother is, well, interesting."

I smiled. "You're being diplomatic."

"I don't always get his sense of humor, but he did beat House at basketball."

I smiled and nodded at him.

"You don't look well," he observed.

"Hung over."

"I can help. I'll be right back," he said as he left. He returned shortly with a cup of hot tea and a pill. "This tea is loaded with honey, which will help, and this pill is DHEA, an adrogenic steroid hormone some think will help a hangover."

I placed Zelda back in her incubator and accepted Dr. Chase's offerings.

"You're being very kind to me with no reason I can fathom. Why?" I asked him.

"You're dedicated to your daughter. I like that."

I inclined my head. "For someone I never anticipated knowing, she's really grown on me."

"About House," he started.

I held up my hand. "Dr. Chase, I am really not in a position to discuss Dr. House with you, or with anyone for that matter."

He nodded. "I love Allison," he said with an honesty so pure and so vulnerable I wanted to warn him, to comfort him, to help him.

"She's foolish not to appreciate you."

He smiled faintly. "It's hard to tell who's the most foolish around here. But I don't mind if it's me. I am patient."

I looked at my watch and jumped. "I'm sorry – I must go pick up Greg. But, if it helps at all, I think your devotion to Allison is heroic."

He laughed quietly. "Heroic. Not a word I would have used."

I kissed him on the cheek and left.

Dr. Chase's hangover remedy helped clear my head; by the time I reached the hotel, I was almost normal. Greg was packed and ready to leave. We made the trip to the airport with little conversation. Our goodbyes, as always, were difficult.

"You must call me every day," he instructed. "And I want to know everything that goes on with Zelda. And your program – I want detailed reports on how your class outlines progress."

I nodded and agreed with everything he said. Just before he boarded the plane, I reached over to hug him.

He said, "The room is paid for until the end of the week. Take some time to decide what you want to do."

I looked into his dark eyes and knew I'd miss his humor and wisdom more than I wanted to admit.

After watching his plane climb into the dark, winter sky, I drove back to Princeton and then around the town, debating my next move. I needed my laptop, my clothing, my stuff, and all of it was in Blue Eyes' apartment. I didn't want to go there, but there seemed little choice. I was in luck, however, because he wasn't home when I reached the apartment. I packed up enough clothing to last till the end of the week. Something kept me from removing all of my belongings; I didn't want to admit I might not be welcomed back.

Just as I was carrying my things from the apartment, Blue Eyes walked in. We stopped, looking uneasily at each other.

He motioned to my clothes. "Moving?"

"I don't know."

"This isn't a motel, you realize. You can't just come and go at your whim," he said with a venom I had never heard before.

"I'll come by tomorrow and get the rest."

He rubbed his free hand through his hair. "Where were you last night, Tiger?"

I watched his expression. "I stayed the night with Greg."

He looked at his feet. "I didn't know where you were. You didn't answer your phone."

I had forgotten about my cell phone. I pulled it out of my purse. "I must have turned it off," I explained.

"You should keep it on in case something happens with Zelda," he admonished.

We were only a few feet apart, but it was as if we were on opposite sides of a great chasm. Neither of us spoke for an interminable few seconds.

"I'll start hunting for an apartment tomorrow," I finally said.

He nodded his head.

I turned to my truck as he closed his apartment door behind him.


	14. Chapter 14: It's Always About Sex

Chapter Fourteen: The Luncheon

On January third, I had a meeting scheduled with Dr. Jacobs about establishing my own department. I wore my basic black maternity skirt with a white, oversized sweater belted around my shrinking waist. I was ready for the meeting, ready to lobby for my online program, but I was pleasantly surprised to find Joel was more than happy to give me a free rein. He assigned me a suite of offices in the liberal arts building. They were vacant and cluttered with unused furniture; it would take some work to turn them into a welcoming place. Joel promised to have a part-time secretary assigned by the beginning of spring semester, as well as a teaching assistant to help me with the grunt work. When the meeting ended I was on an adrenaline high. Joel insisted on dragging me to a catered luncheon sponsored by the alumni association, so I complied. Now that I was mobile and no longer confined to a bed, I welcomed the opportunity to meet more of my colleagues.

The luncheon occupied the dining hall of the student union. Long tables were covered with black cloths and centerpieces of orange and white mums. I distanced myself from Terri and Joel Jacobs as well as Dr. David Mebane. I found a seat and concentrated on the agenda ("Why We Love Princeton"). I noticed a perfectly manicured hand beside me reaching for a water glass and turned to look squarely into the eyes of Succubus. I nearly spit out my chewing gum. She smiled a perfectly sweet smile and held out her hand. I waited half a minute too long to shake it.

"I'm Stacy . . ."

"Warner. Yes, I know."

"I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name," she said in a perfectly polite voice.

"Audra Jeffrey."

Her perfect head nodded. "Aren't you living with Greg?"

"Greg who?"

Her perfect smile slipped. "Dr. Greg House?"

"Oh, yes. I call him Blue Eyes. My pet name. Didn't you used to live with him?" I asked as sweetly as my saccharine southern accent would let me.

"That was many years ago." Her perfect eyes darted around nervously.

"Oh, yes, I think Blue Eyes told me something about that. You married someone else, I think. After you mutilated his leg." I took a long, leisurely sip of my water.

"_I _didn't mutilate his leg," she said in a less-than-perfect screech. Her right eye had developed a tic.

"Of course you didn't," I said in a perfectly patronizing tone.

A waiter gave us each a plate of plastic-looking chicken with over cooked broccoli and carrots.

"Did Greg say I was responsible . . ."

"I'm sure I misunderstood. But you _are_ married – I mean, I did get that correct?" I concentrated on sawing into the chicken.

"I'm currently separated," she said with perfectly tight-lipped precision.

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Wait, weren't you briefly dating Blue Eyes in the fall – surely you weren't still married then?"

Her perfect face acquired a greenish cast. "We were going out while I was separated."

"That's right – I met your husband at the university meet-and-greet. He seemed like such a lovely man. I take it you're working things out?" I chattered as I buttered a petrified roll.

"As I said, we're separated," she said with perfectly clenched teeth.

"Wait, didn't you come by the apartment on New Year's Eve?" I busied myself cutting the broccoli into shreds.

"I stopped by, yes."

"Do you often take walks so late at night?" I was now massacring the carrots.

"No, I . . ."

"It can be so dangerous, a lone woman out at night." I laughed gaily. "I _would_ be the one to know."

She stared at me with a perfectly shocked look on her face.

"Blue Eyes did tell you of my unfortunate incident," I whispered. "Of course, he's just been a doll comforting me. Such an aid to my self-esteem." I tried to scoop some of the broccoli onto my fork with little success.

Succubus had yet to address any of her meal. "Greg's been comforting?"

"Just wonderful. And an excellent father to the baby." I made myself stuff a piece of the rubberized chicken in my mouth after I said that.

"Father? Baby?" She looked perfectly apoplectic.

I chewed fiercely and nodded.

"You already had the baby?"

I swallowed the chicken. "She was terribly early. Blue Eyes hardly leaves her side. But she's getting stronger every day." I smiled a sickening smile at her. "He never told me why you two didn't have any children. I had the impression it was a painful subject." I gave her my most empathetic look.

"I can't have children," she said in a perfectly pitiful voice.

I began to feel sick at my stomach. I really was a horrible person.

"But he always maintained he didn't want any," she continued.

I took a deep breath. "Strange how circumstances can change a man," I said bravely. "Oh dear," I moaned as I looked at my watch, "I forgot I have to meet with the carpenter in my new office suite. I had better run. It was so nice to see you again."

I ran away from her with the guilt of the devil dogging my trail.

Fate repaid me for my unkindness. I spent the afternoon traipsing from apartment to apartment searching for a suitable abode for Zelda and myself. Anything bright and roomy had a bright and roomy price tag, while those reasonably priced apartments were dark and dank and depressing. I ended the afternoon discouraged and fatigued. I peered through the window of the NICU to see Blue Eyes cradling Zelda. I hesitated, considering leaving, but my breasts were heavy with milk and my heart ached to hold my darling daughter. As I watched him humming to her with a peaceful and contented demeanor, Jim came up behind me.

"He's developed quite a technique for calming her."

"Yes. She appears so comfortable in his arms," I admitted.

"He cares for her."

I cut my eyes at Jim. "Yes, he appears to."

"Audra, are the two of you having a tiff?"

"No, Jim, we're having an impasse."

He shook his head. "You two are unbelievably stubborn."

"I'll make you a deal, Jim. I'll relax my rigidity if you can assure me he has no romantic feelings for Allison."

"What would make you think he has feelings for Allison?" Jim asked with a face that appeared genuinely surprised.

"Just talk to him, Jim. If you can assure me he is not interested in her at all, I'll take your word for it. I promise."

Jim turned to stare at Blue Eyes again. "I don't know why, Audra, but I have the strangest feeling you're setting me up for an armageddon."

"Surely you don't think Blue Eyes has that much power?"

He narrowed his eyes while studying Blue Eyes. "I don't think I should ever bet against you, Audra."

"But you can't bet against your best friend, now can you?"

Blue Eyes, naturally, chose that moment to turn and catch Jim and me talking. He furrowed his brow in an annoyed expression before returning Zelda to her crib. I started to sneak away, but Jim caught my wrist and said, "If you leave after he's seen you here, talking with me, you'll have given him plenty to speculate about."

I glanced back and forth between Jim's rational brown gaze and Blue Eyes' agitated movements as he stripped off his protective gown. "You don't mind facing whatever fiction he might concoct?" I asked uncertainly.

His hand around my wrist tightened. "Audra, I've known House a long time. I think I can weather whatever he can manufacture."

Blue Eyes exited the NICU, looked scathingly at Jim, and then turned to me with a disgusted expression. "So, Tiger, you're finally scratching the oncologist itch. That usually implies a fatal illness."

"House," Jim cautioned in a quiet but serious voice, "you don't know what you're talking about."

Blue Eyes swaggered between us, causing Jim to release my wrist. "I think I understand quite a bit, Wilson. Tiger only has a room at the Radisson until Saturday. That gives her just two days to find a new benefactor." He turned his startling gaze on Jim. "That must mean she's chosen you to be her savior. But take a word of advice, _friend_. Don't eat her grits."

I used my freed hand to slap him squarely across his cheek. His face recoiled with the force of the blow, his hand instinctively covering the site. Jim tried to step between us, but I moved closer to Blue Eyes so there was no room.

"You know I need no savior, no benefactor. And you know that was never the reason I moved in with you. If you choose to insult me that way again, be prepared to be slapped again," I said with the very same threatening tone my gambler grandfather would have used to successful effect in an earlier time.

Blue Eyes glared at me with irises the color of sapphires. "Don't think because Wilson is too polite to slap you back that I won't," he barely uttered.

"If you feel you need to slap me to establish your alpha male status, then slap me," I whispered as I stepped closer to him. I paused for a second before mouthing, "Blue Eyes." Our lips were inches apart.

Without breaking our gaze, Blue Eyes said, "Wilson, you want to leave us."

"Audra," Jim started.

"It's okay," I answered. "Go ahead, Jim."

We continued looking into each other's eyes as we heard Jim slowly, reluctantly, shuffle down the corridor.

"You have an uncanny knack for pissing people off," Blue Eyes muttered in a voice that all but caressed my face.

"I need to nurse my daughter."

His eyes traveled to my straining breasts, and then back to my eyes. "I know where we can take care of your need."

We drove to his apartment in his car, although the drive itself was conducted with the two of us in some form of intense foreplay the entire trip. We barely made it inside the door before we slammed against the wall, his mouth suckling my breasts, my milk spurting down his throat, running down his chin, and covering the two of us in sticky sweetness. The erotic agony of his teeth pulling on my nipples ripped groans of frustration from my throat as I struggled out of my sweater and bra. I pawed at his shirt and jeans as he pulled down my skirt and panties. Braced against a chair, he jerked me on top of him, and he slid inside me just as I began to shutter and shiver with a long awaited orgasm. I arched my back and clenched around him to prolong the spasms, holding my breath, but his hands squeezed my breasts, and I could feel the milk squirting with a satisfying relief I had never experienced before. He raised his head to take as much of the liquid as he could, moving inside me with a fevered passion, groaning and calling, "Tiger," in a hoarse, pleading cry. We stayed that way, me on top of him, both of us panting, and I felt him drip between my legs, and I felt my sticky milk between our chests. He pulled my head onto his shoulder and held it there while we both regained our normal breathing. Before long his thigh began to throb, so we hobbled to his bed and, still sticky and short of breath, crawled beneath the sheet and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	15. Chapter 15: Mama Jeffrey

Chapter Fifteen: Mama Jeffrey

In an unusual reversal, I awoke after a few hours with my right leg throbbing; we had fallen asleep with Blue Eyes' right leg thrown across my right thigh, and the pressure had cut off my circulation. I tried to gently ease my leg from underneath his, but the movement caused him to roll onto his back with a snorting, smacking sound that quickly settled into his sleeping hum, and I was freed from his weight. I lay there, sweaty and sticky and smelling of sex and soured milk. My breasts and my cheeks were raw from the abrasiveness of Blue Eyes' clipped beard. Gingerly, I eased out of the bed and gathered my clothing from the hall and living room. I found his car keys in his jeans pocket. Taking his car caused me a momentary pang of conscience, but the moment passed quickly. I was showered and tucked into my bed in the Radisson by three in the morning. Unfortunately, my slumber was alarmingly interrupted around eight by a series of staccato raps on the door. I tried to ignore them, but they only increased in volume and frequency until, finally, a familiar voice called out, "Open the dammed door, you car thief."

I jumped from the bed and pulled a grim-visaged Blue Eyes out of the hallway. "Why are you screaming so?" I demanded. I crossed my arms over my breasts since I was standing in nothing more than a thin, Bee Gees t-shirt and my big girl panties.

"My god, you like the Bee Gees?"

"I was pre-adolescent at the time," I grumbled defensively. "And I was going to return your dammed car."

He shoved me aside as he limped to the bed and searched for the room service menu. "The least you can do is buy me breakfast. When do you move out of here?"

I flailed my arms in a helpless gesture and surrendered. "Tomorrow." I crawled back into bed as he settled on the edge.

"I want pancakes. You?" he asked as he lifted the receiver and poised to order.

"Veggie omelette. Juice."

While Blue Eyes listed a request of foods sufficient to feed the original members of the band memorialized on my shirt, another round of knocking on the door began. I irritably climbed out of bed yet again and stomped to the door, flinging it open while curtly demanding, "Who now?"

Had I the gift of precognition, I'd have locked and bolted the door rather than open it. In the artificial light of the hallway stood my alcoholic mother, her face yellowed but artfully decorated. Her slender body was tastefully clad in an expensive but démodé suit of funeral black wool. Her bloodshot eyes examined me scathingly as she brushed past me and entered the room, pulling a cigarette from her purse.

"This is a no smoking roo. . . " my voice trailed off as her sterling lighter clicked into flame.

Blue Eyes, in his innocence, heard my voice and turned from the phone. "No, Tiger, I can't have sex with you right now. I think I'm lactose intolerant after last night."

"Isn't this cozy, Audra," my mother said in her aristocratic southern accent.

B.E. opened his mouth and hung up the phone.

I was digging through my gym bag in search of a pair of blue jeans. "Mother, this is Dr. Gregory House. Blue Eyes, I mean, Greg, this is my mother. Imogene Jeffrey."

Blue Eyes stood uncomfortably and took my mother's outstretched, limp hand. He bent over slightly as if he thought he should kiss it, but he elected to give it a gentle catch-and-release. Her milky eyes surveyed him with distaste as she lifted her cigarette to her lips, exhaling a gentle stream of smoke into the air from between her ruby lips.

"Is _this_ your man, Audra?" she asked, turning away from B.E. as if he didn't exist.

I was wiggling into a pair of black denims. "My man, Mother?"

Rarely was B.E. rendered speechless by anyone, but Imogene Jeffrey was making a good start. He snatched up his cane and limped around her to stay within her view.

"Yes. Is this, this Dr. House. Is he the father of your baby? Your baby – you do remember you have a baby, don't you, Audra?"

"Tiger is an excellent mother and was present at the birth of her daughter. Where the f#ck were you?" Blue Eyes demanded.

Mother calmly said to me, "Audra, surely your man knows Auburn was in the Sugar Bowl with all the required social engagements."

Blue Eyes gave my mother an untenable gaze. "Zelda, that would be your granddaughter's name, is still in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. She weighed under three f#cking pounds. She's just barely able to breathe on her own. You might want to visit her there, but you wouldn't be allowed to _smoke_," B.E. spat at her.

I vaulted over a chair to get between the two combatants. Although I knew how quick and vicious Blue Eyes' mouth could be, I had the unfortunate experience of knowing how cold my mother's stare was.

"Audra, please tell your _man _I was not addressing him."

"Gentleman," I said.

Blue Eyes looked at me. "What?"

"Gentleman. He's a 'gentleman,'" I informed my mother.

She looked around for an ashtray and, seeing none, finally flicked her ashes onto the floor. "I don't have much time, Audra. Your father insisted I come assess the situation. This whole thing, an illegitimate child, and at your age, is just so, so, _sordid_." Her mouth twisted as if she had been sucking on a persimmon.

"Sordid?" Blue Eyes exclaimed. "You think your daughter's 'situation' is _sordid_? What kind of coldhearted b!tch . . . "

"Mother!" I interrupted. "We were just going downstairs for breakfast. Why don't you go save us a table while I find a more suitable blouse."

Blue Eyes turned his back to the two of us and pounded his cane on the floor. His fury was palpable. I grabbed my mother's arm above the elbow and led her to the door.

"Yes, that outfit is extremely unflattering, even if you _have_ just given birth." She pulled herself up to her full height and took another drag on her cigarette. "Don't be long. This hotel heating system dries out my complexion."

I had no sooner closed the door on her than B.E. wheeled on me.

"Blouse? Since when do you wear blouses? And who is that, that, mannequin? Is the Bride of Chucky really your mother? My god, how are you even moderately sane?"

I pulled my yellow maternity tunic out of the closet and slipped into it. "Shut up, Blue Eyes. Your car keys are on the bedside table. You are free to leave. I can handle her by myself."

He caught me, stretching his cane behind my back and holding me against his chest. "Like he!! I'm leaving you alone with that viper. I'm your gentleman."

I inclined my head onto his chest and allowed myself to breathe deeply for an instant. I adored him, in that moment, for not wanting to abandon me, but I hated him at the same time for the same reason. Having him with me was just going to make the skirmish with my mother even worse.

"Come on, then, Dr. House. Let's go slay a dragon."

"Now you're talking, Tiger."

We found her at a table by a window torturing waiters. She had one frightened teenaged boy trying to find a carafe of coffee to meet her approval, while a pretty, young girl was bringing out a variety of toasted bread products and condiments. A third, older woman was pouring glasses of water and juice to set at the place settings. As we sat down, I notice my mother was holding a fork to the light and scratching off an imaginary bit of food with her scarlet fingernail. She held it aloft, clucked her tongue, and the older waitress promptly brought her a new service of silverware. Mother shook her head sadly.

"How long will you be gracing us with your presence?" Blue Eyes asked with just the slightest tinge of sarcasm.

Mother caught the eye of the older waitress. "Honey, could you add some vodka to this tomato juice? And not the bar brand, please. Something worth drinking. Absolut would be fine." She waved her hand in dismissal.

"Miss," Blue Eyes called to the waitress before she could escape. "Bring me a double of the same and, he!!, a double for my lady here, too." He gave me a cheesy grin.

Mother raised her eyebrows at me. "Drinking so early in morning, Audra? Do you think that's wise?"

"Imogene, I think that's the wisest thing _our_ Tiger could do." B.E. was settling in, readying for a sparring match with my mother.

The young, male waiter came to take our orders. B.E. ordered pancakes with every kind of meat on the menu. I ordered my omelette. Mother maintained an unsavory expression throughout. When her turn came, she closed her menu and said, simply, "Dry toast and three scrambled egg whites, no oil, please."

"Damm, Imogene, you don't care much for food, do you," B.E. said.

Mother smoothed her hands over her bosom. "Dr. House, I think a woman should take care of her appearance." She lit another cigarette. She didn't smile until the waitress brought her drink. Admittedly, I smiled, too, when I tasted the alcohol.

"Is that a southern thing, Imogene?" Blue Eyes asked.

"Is what a southern thing, Dr. House?"

"Narcissism."

I thought I was going to have a heart attack, or vomit at the very least.

"Audra," Mother turned to me, completely ignoring Blue Eyes' question, "your father and I thought, perhaps, you should consider putting your baby up for adoption."

She punctuated her statement with a puff of smoke.

My mouth opened but no words would form.

The waiter brought our food. I lifted my fork and set it back down. Repeatedly. Blue Eyes started to eat, but he watched me from the corners of his eyes and slowed down. Mother picked at her food in her usual manner.

"Imogene," Blue Eyes finally said while signaling the waitress to bring the two of us more bloody marys, "I don't want to offend, but I am fascinated by your phenomenal lack of familial affection. Have you no interest at all in your granddaughter?"

"Is she your daughter, Dr. House? Because, if she is, then why have you not married Audra and made the baby legitimate? And if the baby isn't yours, why are you discussing this with me at all?"

"Yes, Mother, let's have a good old southern Baptist wedding. I'll wear a fluffy white dress and carry gardenias. Dad can wear a tux, and you can wear something that coordinates with Jack Black. If we wait long enough, Zelda can crawl down the aisle with the rings tied around her neck. Greg could be an usher, but ushers can't actually usher if they're in wheelchairs, I guess. And Blue Eyes, here, will make a pretty gimpy groom."

"You always did like the wounded ones," Mother said drily.

"Gimp still in the room," Blue Eyes exclaimed.

I was too pissed off to attend to B.E. "That's right, Mother. I love my brother. I love Blue Eyes. I love my premature daughter. I . . . "

"Whoa there, Mama," Blue Eyes stopped me with a hand on my arm. "Who do you love?"

"Huh?" I stuttered, turning to look at him.

"I believe you just told this doctor you love him," my mother sniffed as she motioned for the waitress to remove her plate.

I shook my head. "I was just making a point," I demurred.

Blue Eyes laughed. "Yeah, Little Mama, quite a point."

"Shut up."

"Yes," my mother said, "I can hear the wedding bells now."

I turned back to her. "Mother, I am not giving Zelda up for adoption. Period."

"And we're not tying the wedding rings around Zelda's neck, for Christ's sake," Blue Eyes chuckled.

I slapped his arm and took a long swig of my second drink.

"You said you love me," he whispered loudly to me.

"Shut the f#ck up, you ass," I whispered back.

"Audra," my mother admonished, "I can't abide this language." She sipped the last of her drink and stubbed out her cigarette. "I have a room here. I think I will go unpack and take a nap. Perhaps we should meet around one for lunch?" She looked at me expectantly, and I nodded compliantly.

She rose from the table and exited the dining room, leaving us the bill. As soon as she was out of earshot, Blue Eyes leaned over.

"You said you loved me."

I turned on him. "My goddammed mother, the spawn of satan himself, is here to roast me over the fires of he!!, and you want to torment me over one slip of the tongue. Get over yourself. And if you really want me to be in love with you, pay this bill and kill my mother." I tried to emulate my mother's regal exit, but I tripped over my chair and barely missed landing on my face.


	16. Chapter 16: Blue Eyes is Sweet

Chapter Sixteen: Blue Eyes is Sweet

I rushed to my truck, Blue Eyes hurrying behind me as best he could with his bad leg. Finally, he stopped in the parking garage and yelled, "Just pick me up as you speed by!" And, of course, I did. He scrambled in the truck and asked, as we peeled out of the Radisson's garage, about our destination.

"I have to go see Zelda. And feed her before I'm again wearing her milk."

"Are we really going to meet Cruella for lunch?"

My jaws were clenched so tightly I thought the enamel would be automatically ground from my teeth. "_You_ can spend your afternoon watching 'The Next Top Model' with Wilson for all I care. _I_ have to get my mother on a plane to Alabama as soon as possible."

"Tiger," he said in a caressing voice, "has she always treated you this way?"

"Both of us – Greg and me. Okay, she picked on me."

He shook his face; _his_ jaws were now clenched. "I thought my family owned the definition of dysfunction, but they make Lucretia appear bloodless. She isn't a vampire, is she?"

"If she were I'd have a silver bullet in my pocket," I said without a hint of humor.

"You hate her."

"Pretty much," I answered. "But more for the way she treated Greg. I won't let her ruin Zelda's life."

"I may be wrong here, but I don't think she has any intention of even seeing Zelda."

"Oh, she'll see her, if only to tell me how small she is, how ugly, how weak, how intellectually affected she'll be, how she could very well be a cripple like Greg." I spoke quicker and quicker, and as I spoke, I drove quicker and quicker.

Blue Eyes gripped his door handle as I whipped into a parking space. "Blue Eyes, you were a prince this morning, but I really don't expect you to go through any more of this. It's not worth it to you."

"Tiger, I'm going with you to see Zelda, and I'll have lunch with Attila. After all, you love me."

I rolled my eyes and slapped my forehead as we exited the truck.

While I calmed down enough to coax Zelda in her attempt to learn how to suck, my milk cascading over her face, Blue Eyes disappeared briefly. I assumed he needed to take care of his hospital business. When he returned to the unit and touched me on the shoulder, I sadly returned Zelda to her home. "She recognizes your touch, your smell, your voice," Blue Eyes said quietly as we walked to the truck.

"You think so?" I asked excitedly.

He nodded. "I've been watching her. She's much more relaxed when you're holding and feeding her. And she gained two ounces these last two days."

I did a redneck version of a victory dance, ending with my arms locked around Blue Eyes' neck. "You know how much I needed that news," I crowed while looking into his eyes.

"Yes, I know. But it's also the truth, Little Mama. Now, come on – it's noon and your lovely yellow top is stained with Zelda's lunch. We need to spruce you up before we meet the Black Widow."

"Sh!t," I spat. "Oh, Blue Eyes, is there a nice restaurant we can take her to?"

"Plenty, but since she doesn't eat, is there really any reason to bother?"

I gave him a stern look, and he nodded.

"Let's go to the hotel, and I'll make a reservation while you change."

I pulled out my trusty white sweater and belted it, praying for the illusion of a waist, and applied a subtle layer of makeup. Blue Eyes was reclined on the bed watching "Top Chef."

"Do you have any idea how many different kinds of edible oysters there are?" Blue Eyes asked with wonder.

I was brushing out my hair. "Are you planning on ordering oysters for lunch?"

"Lizzie Borden doesn't like them?"

"Of course not."

"Then we'll definitely order them."

"Blue Eyes, January has an 'R' in it."

The room phone rang, and before I could answer it, Blue Eyes snagged it. "Den of iniquity with two legal, heterosexual adults engaged in totally kinky sex. However, we _are_ looking for a third . . ."

He knew, and I knew he knew, it was my mother.

He somewhat meekly hung up the phone. "We're meeting her in the lobby in ten minutes."

We marched to meet her as if we were marching to board the last transport for Vulcan. She was standing by the lobby doors, a cigarette held delicately in her left hand. She had changed into a black pantsuit with a platinum and diamond brooch. She handed Blue Eyes her overcoat, and he awkwardly helped her into it one-handed.

"So, where are the three of us going?" she asked.

Since Greg's car was larger than my truck, he excused himself to retrieve it. In his absence Mother scrutinized me.

"Why did you have this baby, Audra? Abortions are legal up north, aren't they?"

"I wanted Zelda, Mother."

"I can't imagine why," she stated as she impatiently inhaled her cigarette. "You're single, alone, and you have the opportunity to further your education, even though you're a bit long in the tooth. A baby at your age will only slow you down."

"Speaking of my education, I've been offered my own program to run. An online developmental English curriculum, so I will be a full-fledged employee with a salary and benefits, an office and employees of my own." I knew the things that impressed my mother.

"Is that so?" she asked with one arched eyebrow. "And you will be able to handle this _and_ continue your doctoral studies?"

"Yes. As I matter of fact, I have an article coming out in next month's _Contemporary Literary Criticism_. It's called, 'The Americanization of Simon Gray's Quintessentially English _Butley_.'"

Mother, having completely lost interest in my literary mumbo jumbo, ground her butt under her foot even though we were still in the hotel lobby. I cringed.

"And with all of these new responsibilities, how ever will you take care of a baby needing constant medical attention?"

"I will take care of her the same way I took care of Greg," I responded, allowing my voice to rise above the acceptable, ladylike dulcet tones.

Blue Eyes' car stopped; Mother stood outside the passenger door and waited until B.E., grumpily, limped around the car and opened her door. As he closed it after her, he rolled his eyes at me. He whispered into my ear as he opened the rear door for me, "Why does she get to sit in the front?"

"Because she's the matriarch."

He seemed to slam the door a bit enthusiastically.

He drove us to the restaurant. B.E. had reserved the private cellar with its own private waiter in the subterranean Italian restaurant, Sotto Ristorante and Lounge. The cavernous, stone-walled eatery was in the heart of the university district. Blue Eyes had also ordered a couple of bottles of wine, Gaja Barbaresco 1999. The waiter filled each of our glasses after allowing B.E. to sample and approve it. Mother sniffed it daintily and set it back on the table.

"This wine," he began, "is from the Piedmont region in northern Italy where the Nebbiolo grape flourishes. You can see by the color it's a deeply tinted wine. It needs to be aged and develops a generous floral bouquet and exquisite elegance. It is one of the few Italian wines worth the price." B.E. smiled at me, and we raised our glasses and drank together.

Mother lit a cigarette and opened her menu.

"Imogene," B.E. said in an unusually charming voice, "would you please allow me to order for you?"

"Dr. House, my tastes are . . ."

"The food here is excellent, Imogene," B.E. continued while wresting the menu from her hand. "I'm sure I can select something you will find palatable."

The waiter arrived promptly.

Blue Eyes asked him to wait a second and then turned to me. "May I order for you as well, Little Mama?" he asked in a similar, sugary voice.

I nodded out of shock.

Blue Eyes turned to the waiter. "We'll start with Antipasto Di Sotto and Calamari Fritti, with plates for all of us so we can share. Imogene will have Ravioli Ripieno – that's homemade ravioli in a creamy pink _vodka_ sauce – while my lady here will have the Insalata Portabello, and I will have Cavatelli con Salsicia. That should be all." Blue Eyes grinned a self-satisfied grin.

"Dr. House," my mother finally broke her silence, "is there a particular reason you chose a restaurant in a _dungeon_?"

"The ambiance seemed to fit your personality, Imogene," Blue Eyes responded in the same, calm voice.

The waiter added more wine to our glasses; Mother had reluctantly tasted the luscious beverage. He then brought our appetizers. Mother nibbled at the fresh mozzarella, the roasted peppers, and the grilled vegetables, but she wouldn't touch the calamari. Blue Eyes tucked in with a healthy appetite, relishing every delicacy. I was so distracted enjoying his obvious sensual fulfillment, I almost forgot to try anything myself.

Holding to his role as devoted partner, Blue Eyes paused long enough to feed me a bite of the calamari. "Isn't it just heavenly, Little Mama? Cooked to perfection."

The sweeter he was, the more uneasy I became; I feared he had a plan. I snuck a piece of paper and a pen from my bag and scribbled down, "How much is this wine?"

He laughed when he read my question as if it were a lover's note, but he scribbled back, "$220 a bottle. Salute!"

I choked on the bit of grilled pepper I had been chewing. Blue Eyes leaned over and patted my back. "Do I need to Heimlich you?"

I shook my head, but I grabbed my wine glass.

My mother made a clucking sound with her tongue. She lit a cigarette and waved for the waiter to remove her plate.

"Did you not enjoy your antipasto, Imogene?" B.E. asked with false solicitation.

"Dr. House, I'm not accustomed to highly seasoned food."

"Well, perhaps you'll find the ravioli more to your taste."

The waiters cleared our plates and served our main courses. My salad was heavenly, a flavorful combination of mesculine greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, and roasted red peppers topped with portabello mushrooms and parmigiano cheese, all drizzled with Balsamic vinaigrette. Combined with the delicate bouquet of the wine, I was quickly becoming lightheaded and giddy with sensory overload.

Mother nibbled at her ravioli, but she had begun to enjoy her wine with more gusto. The waiter kept our glasses filled.

And Blue Eyes was not only savoring the wine, but he was tasting every bit of his dish, the cavatelli, the Italian sausage, the broccoli rabe, and the rich oil and garlic sauce as if her were a food critic and preparing to write a major review. As he finally began to slow down, he once again addressed my mother.

"Imogene, are you interested in going by the hospital to visit your granddaughter?"

"Why ever did you give her such an unusual name as Zelda, Audra?" she turned to me.

"Probably the same reason you named me Florine," I retorted.

"You were named after your grandmother. That is the way of families. No one in our family has ever been named Zelda."

"But someone in my family is now named Zelda."

"Audra and I are very fond of the baby's name, Imogene," Blue Eyes said.

I looked at him with concern.

"Dr. House, as I've said before, if she were your daughter, your opinion would have some weight. However . . ."

"I have been debating bringing this up, Imogene, because I know Little Mama here wanted to keep it between the two of us, but since Zelda's parentage, or the identity of her father, seems to be of so much significance to you, I thought I'd settle this now."

I started to hyperventilate as Blue Eyes pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket. "When Little Mama, here, and I were visiting Zelda earlier, I used my pull to get a copy of her birth certificate so we could lay the question of her parentage to rest."

"Blue Eyes," I exclaimed in a truly vulgar tone. "Please, no."

"Audra," Mother cautioned me. "Control yourself. We may be in a dungeon, but we_ are_ in a public place." She lit yet another cigarette.

"Please, Blue Eyes, don't do this. Not here," I begged.

Blue Eyes smiled reassuringly at me, and I felt certain he had gone completely mad. "Darling girl, I know this isn't what you wanted, but I see no reason to prolong the suspense or your mother's visit. Once she understands about Zelda and that you won't be alone caring for her, I'm sure she'll be reassured and have no further need to carry on her inquisition." He smiled the entire time he spoke.

I drained my glass of ungodly expensive wine.

Blue Eyes handed the birth certificate to my mother. She reached inside her purse and extracted a pair of black rimmed reading glasses and set them daintily on her nose. She shook out the document and began reading.

I reached across to grab Blue Eyes' forearm, digging in my nails, but he gave me a beatific look and signaled the waiter to pour the two of us more wine. He whispered to me, "Tiger, everything will be fine. She'll be on a plane out of here tonight."

"But," I stuttered as I tried to also swallow some more wine, "you did remove Jim's name as the father, didn't you?"

He placed his palm caressingly against my cheek, saying, "You realize all of this affection is for Eva Peron's benefit?"

"Of course. I knew you would never be sincerely romantic towards me."

"So," my mother announced as she folded the certificate and removed her glasses, "Zelda is your responsibility, Dr. House. How do you plan to provide for her?"

"What?" I yelped as Blue Eyes squeezed my knee.

"I plan to provide for her just fine. If you'll return her birth certificate, I'd like to escort Tiger outside. Your cigarette smoke has irritated her lungs. We'll wait for you to finish."

Blue Eyes all but drug me up the stairs and into the bar area of the restaurant.

"Let me see the birth certificate!"

"Here," he said and handed it to me. "I'll be right back."

While he chatted with a waiter, I scanned the document. Blue Eyes had, inexplicably, removed Jim's name as the father and replaced it with his own name. I searched for him, my breathing shallow, as he returned. "Blue Eyes, why?"

Before any more could be said, I fainted. Blue Eyes caught me and motioned for the waiter to call an ambulance. He smiled as he lifted me into the emergency vehicle; he had instructed the waiter to deliver the bill to Imogene.


	17. Chapter 17: The ER

Chapter Seventeen: The ER

I regained consciousness as Blue Eyes helped to shove my stretcher into the back of the ambulance. "Mother?" I whispered.

"Shhhh," he answered. "As soon as we leave for the ER, the waiter is going to take Genghis a note."

"Oh my god, you didn't tell her I died, did you?" I grabbed his arm.

The EMTs closed the doors on us and the ambulance started. "No, Tiger, but I wish I'd thought of it." He was taking my pulse. "Hand me your stethoscope," be barked to one of the techs. He listened to my heart. I started to speak, but he shushed me. Finally, he nodded at the techs and allowed them to start the IV.

"Blue Eyes, there's nothing wrong with me but acute shock."

"Eleanor Ramilly, I strongly suspect you're anemic and, probably, low in B vitamins, most likely B6. We'll get you to the ER and run a couple of tests," he told me in his professional, doctorly voice.

"What did you tell Mother in the note?"

His lips turned up slightly at the corners. "That you had been taken ill and were being transported to the PPTH ER, that I was accompanying you in the ambulance, and that she could take a cab if she wanted."

I smiled weakly. A fleeting look of concern crossed his face. "We're almost there, Eleanor Ramilly."

"The birth certificate," I started.

"Hush. We'll discuss it later."

"But."

"Later."

The techs moved me into the chaotic world of the ER. Blue Eyes barked and bellowed without much success until Dr. Chase appeared and had me moved to a bed surrounded by flimsy curtains.

"Chase," Blue Eyes begin immediately, "get a CBC, MVC, hematocrit, ferritin, and a vitamin test profile, looking particularly at B6 and B12."

"You're thinking anemia and B deficiency? What happened?" Dr. Chase asked.

"She fainted after a he!! of a great lunch." He sat on a chair against the wall.

Dr. Chase grabbed the necessary hardware and approached me with a long needle.

"How do you feel now, Audra?"

"I'm fine, Dr. Chase. I just had a bit of a shock at lunch. That was all."

"It won't hurt to run some tests to make sure," he reassured in his lovely, Australian accent as a lock of his blonde hair slipped forward across his eye. I didn't feel the needle enter my arm at all.

"Call Cameron," Blue Eyes said. "Have her run the tests while we wait."

Dr. Chase looked up. "It would be better if you called her, House. I'm not her boss."

"Ahh, you two still on the outs." Blue Eyes paged Allison.

The curtains surrounding my bed parted and Mother stood in the opening, poised as a model, her hips angled, her shoulders back, her head high. Blue Eyes was sheltered from her view by the curtains, but Dr. Chase was standing right before her. Mother put on her sultry smile and slinked forward with her hand extended.

"You must be Audra's doctor. I am Imogene Jeffrey," she oozed in a honeyed version of her normal haughty accent.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Jeffrey, but . . ." Dr. Chase stuttered, uncomfortable.

"Honey, if you're going to be looking after my darling daughter, you must call me Imogene. What _is _wrong with her? Food poisoning from that horrible restaurant?"

Blue Eyes had a sly smile on his face as he kept quiet. I just closed my eyes and felt guilty about leaving Dr. Chase in my mother's flirtatious hands.

Allison hurried in. "What? Who paged me? Chase?"

Chase indicated Blue Eyes against the wall, who waved cheerily to Mother.

"I need you to run some tests on Audra, Cameron," he said.

She gave Blue Eyes an angry glance. "Chase can't do it?"

"Not right now, Cameron. He's busy. Go," Blue Eyes sternly directed her.

Allison took the blood and the list of tests, huffily marching into the hall.

"That young woman needs to learn some manners," Mother said in a slow, expressionless drawl.

Chase jumped to her defense. "She was probably busy. There was no reason I couldn't have run those tests."

"Dear boy," Mother continued, "you're needed here. Dr. House, obviously, has had too much wine at lunch to be able to adequately care for dear Audra. And, certainly, he wouldn't have called you in if you weren't the most highly qualified doctor in this little hospital." She smiled her seductive smile again.

"I am not drunk," Blue Eyes complained from his seat.

"Dr. Chase, do you think you could find me a chair? I'm sure Dr. House is too unsteady to surrender _his_ to a lady."

Dr. Chase scurried into another cubicle and came back with a chair, which he held as my mother delicately lowered herself into it.

"Thank you, Dr. Chase," she cooed.

"Mother, there's no reason for you to stay here with me. Don't you need to get ready to catch your plane?" I asked with undisguised annoyance.

Dr. Chase stood nearby, obviously unaware if he should go or stay, and Blue Eyes refused to give him a sign either way.

"The questions I came here to answer have only created more questions, Audra," Mother said pointedly. She reached out and wrapped her long fingers loosely around Dr. Chase's forearm. "Dr. Chase, have you seen Audra's baby?"

"Yes, Mrs., uh, Imogene, I'm an intensivist, so I've spent a good bit of time taking care of her. She's a hearty little girl to have been born so early." He smiled to my Mother in what he thought would be an encouraging way.

"Well, Dr. Chase, let me ask you another question. Do you feel that the parents of a baby should be married, that they should try to raise a child in an intact home as a family?"

Dr. Chase, no longer understanding the purpose of Mother's questions, looked to me for help. Blue Eyes continued watching Dr. Chase's discomfort with amusement.

"Obviously, under the best of circumstances, a home with a mother and a father and their children would be preferable; however, in today's world that's not always possible."

"Audra," Mother said with the slightest tinkling of a laugh, "dear Dr. Chase, here, is a diplomat." She turned her attention back to Dr. Chase. "I recognize your accent as Australian, but you must have some southern ancestry." She laughed girlishly again.

Blue Eyes' patience had come to an end. He stood and limped over to perch on the end of my bed. "Imogene, when did you say your plane was leaving tonight?"

"I never said I was leaving tonight, Dr. House."

B.E. glanced to me, then he looked to Dr. Chase. "Thanks for meeting us, Chase, but I think I can handle things from here. Have Cameron page me with the results."

"You won't be waiting here?" Chase asked uneasily.

"Doubtful," B.E. answered.

Chase nodded and turned to leave, but Mother still had his arm in her grip.

"Dr. Chase, do you have a business card, in case we have need of a doctor again?" she asked coquettishly while tightening her grip.

Dr. Chase turned bright red and stuttered with embarrassment.

Blue Eyes encircled Mother's wrist with his own hand. "If you ever need to contact Chase, you only have to let me know, Imogene," he said with a voice of steel.

Mother's smile didn't falter, but her pale eyes darkened slightly. She released Dr. Chase and said, "Well, that will be fine then. It has been such an absolute pleasure to have met you, Dr. Chase. I do hope this won't be our last meeting."

Blue Eyes nodded at Dr. Chase and, taking the hint, he nodded at my mother and skittered down the hall.

"Would you like to go see your granddaughter, Imogene?" Blue Eyes asked in the same, steely voice.

"This whole ordeal has taken a lot out of me. I think I'd prefer to return to the hotel for a hot bath."

"When does your plane leave?" I asked her heatedly.

"Audra, don't use that tone with me," she snapped. "I have a nine o'clock flight in the morning, but since we now have to plan a wedding between you and Dr. House, I might have to delay my flight."

"No!" Blue Eyes and I both shouted.

"I'll go check you out, Tiger, and make sure there's a cab for your mother," Blue Eyes said as he made a hurried exit.

"Mother," I began.

"Audra," she interrupted, "I won't mince words. I find your doctor rude and gauche. However, since he is the father of your child, it is only befitting the two of you should marry. Of course, since you've been married before and the child is already here, it can't be a huge affair, but a simple, private wedding would be appropriate. A tasteful reception at the country club with only the most select invited."

"Mother, just shut up," I hissed.

She rose from her chair like a regal lioness gaining her feet. "I will not have you speak to me that way." She paused to place a palm against her forehead. "I'm feeling a migraine coming on. I will call you in the morning."

"But you're leaving in the morning," I called to her back as she glided through the curtains and down the hall.

When Blue Eyes returned, he looked around. "Where did Son of Sam go?"

As he removed my IV, I answered, "Out into the world. I don't think she's going to leave tomorrow."

"Get your skinny butt into some clothes and let's go see Zelda."

"About Zelda and her birth certificate . . ."

"Just get dressed, Tiger."

I did as directed. I held Zelda with milk sloshing all over her tiny, bird-like mouth. "Is she actually getting any in there?" I asked.

"Watch her," Blue Eyes said. He was sitting in a chair beside us. "You'll see her close her mouth very quickly every once in a while. That's when she swallows."

I concentrated on her fragile lips, and to my amazement I could see her swallowing just as Blue Eyes had described. I smiled and nodded my head enthusiastically.

"She's getting the hang of it," he said.

"Listen," I started, "I understand why you put your name on her birth certificate, but I don't understand why you told my mother. She'll now be he!! bent on getting us married."

"I didn't like the idea of Zelda not having a listed father, but bear in mind, should you try to extract a dime from me, a paternity test will settle any claim you try to make," he warned.

"I don't give a flying f#ck at a rolling donut about your money," I barked.

"A flying what at a rolling what?" he chuckled. "And as far as Adolph's forcing us into a marriage, you know damm well she can't force us to do anything we don't want to do."

"Mother is all about appearances. She doesn't care if I'm married, but if I show up toting a baby, there had better be a legal father docilely following behind carrying the diaper bag."

"How would she react if she knew you had been raped?"

"She can't find that out, Blue Eyes. I don't even want to think about her reaction."

He smiled. "That was another reason why I showed her the birth certificate."

Zelda had stopped her abbreviated form of nursing and began fussing, so Blue Eyes settled her back in her incubator while I readjusted my clothing. We walked out of the hospital together.

"Tonight's your last night at the hotel?" he asked.

"Oh, sh!t. I haven't found an apartment yet. Oh, bloody he!!."

"Fine. Let's go get your stuff at the hotel and bring you back to my place. You don't need to be that close to Bloody Mary anyway."

I allowed him to take control. I picked up my mail at the Radisson and discovered a message from Joel to call him.

"Joel, this is Audra. What can I do for you?" I asked politely.

"If you can coordinate with our staff, can you have your offices ready by Friday for a reception?" he asked.

"Next Friday? A week from today?" I stuttered.

"That's right. We want to invite any and every one to show off the new program. And I took the liberty to schedule you interviews with secretarial staff and TAs for Monday morning. Would that be agreeable?"

"Sure," I answered in shock.

Moving in with Blue Eyes was compatible because we hardly saw each other. He had a patient, so he was camping out at the hospital, and I was either at the university picking colors for walls and fabrics for chairs, or in the NICU with Zelda, or in my mother's wicked web, who steadfastly refused to either visit Zelda or go back to Alabama. I chose a cheerful young woman, Cindy Hunkapillar, as the part-time secretary, and a handsome, dark-skinned, dark-eyed young man, Troy Fletcher, for my teaching assistant. And my tests showed I was, indeed, anemic and low in vitamin B6.

The reception was scheduled for one o'clock. The caterers were providing a semi-lavish spread of munchies and a fruit punch along with assorted soft drinks. I purchased an orange-red, cowl-necked sweater dress that accented my lactating breasts and my diminishing midsection. I was nervous and excited as I prepared for the afternoon, although a call from my mother caught me by surprise.

"Audra," she began, "don't you think it would look better if we arrived at this reception together?"

"What reception? Mother, you're not invited."

"Of course I'm invited, darling. I'm your mother." I could hear her pause to take a pull on her cigarette. "I've only stayed here this long to assure your debut goes well."

"How did you find out about it?" I asked in horror.

"That Dr. Jacobs, your boss, called the hotel looking for you and we had a marvelous conversation. I agreed to help him with the invitation list, so we met over cocktails one evening and . . ."

"_You_ helped make out the invitation list? You had drinks with Joel? Oh, I am so fired."

"I purchased a simple suit for the event. Do you think that will be appropriate?"

"You'll look appropriate in a fig leaf, Mother."

"Don't be flip, Audra. When do you plan to pick me up? And will your doctor be coming with you?"

"Why would Blue . . . Mother, did you have him invited?" I began to sweat.

"Darling, of course I had your fiancé invited. And I also had all of the medical personnel involved with you and your daughter invited. You need to show the university you have contacts in the medical branch – show them how far-reaching you and your program can be."

I had fleeting thoughts of not attending the reception rather than having to encounter Blue Eyes and his entourage trampling my brand new playground. It also occurred to me, since Blue Eyes hadn't mentioned the reception, he wasn't going. I hadn't expressed any desire to have him make an appearance, and we both knew he hated being in crowds, especially crowds of unfamiliar people.

Mother's voice brought me back. "Audra, what time will you pick me up?"

"I have to be there by noon to make sure everything is in place. I'm sure that would be too early for you. It might be best if you take a cab," I suggested.

"All right, then, I'll do that," she said as she hung up.


	18. Chapter 18: The Reception

Chapter Eighteen: The Reception

I hurried to my office suite in McCosh Hall. The secretarial/waiting room was a pale aqua with chairs in floral prints. Cindy, in a bright, flowing chiffon church dress, was bustling about, clucking motherly. My office was a pale green and lined with book cases. There was a smaller office the same color as the waiting area that Troy had moved into. The final room was a large, airy, conference room with two walls lined with computer carrels. The conference table was covered with an orange tablecloth, and a centerpiece of greenery was surrounded by platters of crudités and savories along with a variety of dips and chips, punch and water. The floral pattern on the chairs in the waiting area was continued on the chairs throughout the suite and in the curtains.

"Where's Troy?" I asked Cindy.

"He's in the restroom trying to tie his tie – he wants to impress you," she whispered. "I think he has a bit of a crush."

I smiled. The caterers efficiently unloaded their carts and organized the food artistically. A large ficus plant by the hallway entrance bore a 'good luck' card from Joel and Terri Jacobs. A huge schefflera in a bronze pot stood in the corner of the conference room and had a large bow of congratulations from Dr. David Mebane. An antiqued bamboo container of Tahiti sunrise combo butterfly orchids had been placed on the desk in my office with an unopened card. The blooms were gorgeous shades of orange to coral to salmon to yellow. I opened the envelope: "I know you'll be a great success! Jim." His card made me feel like a success.

"Do we have the copies of the proposed syllabi to hand out?" I asked Cindy nervously.

"Of course, Ms. Jeffrey."

Troy tripped through the doorway, almost taking out the ficus. He grinned crookedly at me. "Do I look all right, Ms. Jeffrey?"

"You look perfect, Troy. Don't worry. Just be friendly and sell the program."

"That shouldn't be difficult, Ms. Jeffrey," he shyly replied. I wondered if he really did have a crush on me.

A little before one the caterers moved to the fringes so they could refill and refresh as needed. Terri and Joel arrived first. As usual, they were noisy and boisterous, resembling a small tornado as they blew through the offices. People then began coming in waves. I shook hands with David Mebane and thanked him for the plant, but his smile lacked the flirtatious appeal it had once held. I even thought I detected some bitterness in his eyes. The rooms were filled with hungry professors of all ilks; I mingled as much as I could. After half an hour of face-numbing smiling, I heard a commotion in the hallway and looked to see my mother entering on the arm of Blue Eyes.

She was lithe and trim in her suit of navy silk, and he was handsome in an ironed, button-down shirt of pale blue with a navy college rep tie and a navy sports coat. I stood, frozen, watching them; she held her head high and surveyed the room, looking as if she were sniffing a foul odor, while he allowed her to keep her hand on the crook of his free arm as he looked downward, avoiding meeting anyone's gaze. Just behind them stood Jim, twitching nervously as he debated trying to slip around them to get into the office. I walked forward and drew my mother inside.

"Come in, Mother, Blue Eyes, Jim. I didn't expect to see all of you," I babbled. Troy was moving with me, just behind my elbow. "May I show them our facilities?" he asked me politely.

"Where's the food?" Blue Eyes asked.

Troy led Blue Eyes and Jim to the conference room while Mother stayed with me.

"Not a lot of room, here," she groused. "But I suppose one must start somewhere."

"I'm happy with it, Mother."

"Oh, there's that darling man, Joel. Let me go say hello."

I watched her as she sailed through the room and captured Joel's hand in an intimate grasp. They exchanged words, and Mother tilted her head as she laughed elegantly. I saw Joel turn and take her to introduce her to someone, and my heart kicked into overdrive. I hurried to get within hearing distance of them.

"This is Imogene Jeffrey. Her daughter is the new director of this new program," Joel said.

Mother extended her hand to the other woman, who introduced herself. "I've met Audra at these university functions before. I'm Stacy Warner."

"If you've met Audra, then you must know her fiancé, too. He's here somewhere," Mother continued in her honeyed drawl.

Stacy's perfect face showed anguish. "Audra's engaged?"

"Yes," Mother answered. "He's a doctor, and, although I don't approve, they've already had a baby together. A little girl."

"Wait," Stacy said. "Is Audra engaged to Dr. Greg House?"

Mother smiled smugly. "Yes, do you know him?"

"Very well. We used to live together," she said with perfect piousness.

"I hope this news didn't upset you, but if you know Audra you've certainly been aware of her pregnancy."

"Greg said she was pregnant because she was raped," Stacy said as my perfect heart nearly stopped.

Her facetious laughter echoed throughout the offices. "What a cad that doctor is. One can never believe a word he says. But, if you had a relationship with him, I don't suppose I have to tell you that." Mother placed her hand on Stacy's perfect forearm familiarly.

"What are they discussing?" Blue Eyes asked from behind me.

I jumped. I turned and scowled at him. "Succubus just told Mother Zelda was the product of a rape. This is all your fault."

"Actually, it's the rapist's fault," he retorted. "Let me see if I can distract Imelda Marcos."

He limped over to the two women. "Well, Imogene, I see you've met my ex." He examined Stacy's perfect form. "How are you, Stacy? And how is Mark? Is he here? I'd like to wish him a Happy New Year."

"Mark isn't here, Greg. And I understand congratulations are due you on your engagement," Stacy said in a perfectly quiet but perfectly controlled voice.

Blue Eyes grinned at Mother. "Oh, Imogene, still trying to get me to marry you. As much as I'd love to puncture that flawless façade of yours, you know I draw the line at having affairs with married women. Oh, wait, been there, done that with _Stacy_."

Mother had an evil smirk. Stacy's perfect face hardened. "Are you engaged to Audra, and is her baby yours?"

"Audra and I haven't discussed marriage, and my name is on the birth certificate as both attending physician and father. Now, Imogene, let's not continue spreading these little rumors, shall we?"

Mother nodded at Blue Eyes and turned on her heel. She paused beside me and whispered, "Watch that one or you'll lose your man." Then, she proceeded into the conference room where the food and beverages were.

I walked up to Blue Eyes. He inclined his head. "Tiger, show me around your place."

Blue Eyes put his hand on the small of my back as we turned to follow Mother; I couldn't resist, however, in giving Succubus a blinding, joyful smile as we left.

In the conference room we found Mother chatting amiably with Jim and Cindy. I grabbed Jim's hand eagerly.

"The orchid you sent is in my office, and it's just beautiful. However did you know I would love it?" I asked with genuine excitement.

"It just seemed to fit your personality," Jim smiled at me.

"In Alabama, I had several orchids I entered in shows. I'm excited to think of raising them again."

Blue Eyes said nothing during this exchange, but I could feel his body go rigid in jealousy mode.

Joel, who had been circulating throughout the suite, caught up with us again. He caught my hand and said, beaming to my mother and indicating Jim, "So, this must be the fiancé Imogene has been bragging about."

"Joel, this is Dr. James Wilson, a close friend of _Audra's_ doctor." She turned and, steely-eyed, pulled Blue Eyes next to her. "Joel, this is Dr. Gregory House, Audra's fiancé."

"Fiancé?" Jim blurted

Joel narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Blue Eyes. "I believe I've met you somewhere before, Dr. House."

"Yes," Mother said. "Dr. House was also involved with another of your instructors, Stacy Warner. But he's decided to settle down with my Audra now."

Joel, always ebullient, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. "A university wedding. How wonderful! Terri just loves planning events – I'm sure she'd be happy to lend a hand. There's a lovely chapel on campus, and Chastain House is perfect for receptions. And, of course, there are various outdoor sites that would be suitable. Oh, a spring wedding would be so exciting!"

"Joel," I began, but Blue Eyes interrupted me.

"Audra and I have no wedding plans. Imogene, though, has a vivid imagination," he explained calmly.

"Well, now you have a child together, the right thing must be done," Mother said with finality.

Joel turned diplomatically to Cindy and complimented her on the organization of the reception while Jim quietly sampled the finger foods.

Mother's plate held only a few tidbits, and she nibbled daintily. Blue Eyes leaned next to her ear and said, "It's been my experience that women who don't enjoy food also don't enjoy sex. Do you feel that's accurate, Imogene?"

I almost spit out the mouthful of punch I was trying to swallow, but Mother failed to flinch. She responded, "It's been my experience, doctor, that a woman's sexual pleasure is inversely proportionate to the ego of the man she is with, which might explain why my daughter is so adamant about _not_ marrying you."

Blue Eyes looked quizzically at me, and I saw the questions forming in his mind. I could feel Jim next to me trying to stifle his giggles. He jerked around, however, when he heard his name called by a feminine voice.

Stacy stood in the doorway, beckoning Jim, and he hurried to her side. The two retreated into Troy's office. I glanced at Blue Eyes; he was watching them as well.

"Are you jealous?" I asked him.

He looked down at me with a serious expression. "When she came back to me the first time, her husband was ill. Disabled. She was going to leave him for me. But Mark, he came to beg for her. He got out of his wheelchair, endangering all of the physical therapy he had been doing, and pleaded for her. I realized, no matter what she and I had, I could never love her as much as he did. I was never going to be willing to sacrifice myself for her. That's why I sent her back to him."

His voice was almost a whisper, broken with the agony of confession. I placed my hand on his arm. "You gave her back to the man you knew loved her. You made a selfless sacrifice."

His tone became sarcastic. "Don't canonize me, yet, Gloria Gilbert. I let her sucker me back in during the fall."

"You couldn't resist the challenge." I thought for a moment. "Now she's afraid we're engaged and certain we have a baby together, _she _may feel challenged. What will you do if she decides to pursue you again?"

He looked into my eyes with clear, blue eyes of infinite depths. "I don't think I'll bite, but I can't say for sure, Gloria Gilbert."

I nodded. I knew.

Troy appeared at my elbow. "We're running low on the copies of the syllabi," he whispered.

I smiled at him. "That's a good thing unless you find them all wadded up between the chair cushions. Oh, Troy Fletcher, meet Dr. Greg House."

The two looked each other over and shook hands. I realized they both had protective feelings towards me and neither welcomed another male entering his perceived territory. I almost laughed.

"Troy," I said, "is getting his master's in composition studies, so he's perfect for my program. He's already been a huge help."

Troy's dark skin flushed. "I am fortunate to be able to work for you, Ms. Jeffrey."

Cindy called Troy to help her with a minor food situation; as soon as he left, Blue Eyes whispered, "Now you have your own flunky. How does it feel?"

"Powerful," I answered.

He chuckled.

Mother rejoined us. "I know this is neither the time nor the place," she hissed at the two of us, "but I want to know what that floozy meant about Audra having a baby because of a rape?"

My mouth made opening and closing motions, but no words would form. Finally, Blue Eyes spoke. "You can't listen to Stacy. She's jealous of my involvement with Audra and has concocted a story to try to hurt her."

Mother turned her angry eyes on him. "Don't think I'm stupid because I'm female and I act female," she began. "Her baby was born in December at twenty-eight or twenty-nine weeks, which means she got pregnant in June. She didn't move here until August. I am not a fool, Dr. House, nor am I gullible enough to swallow all of your bull."

Blue Eyes grabbed my mother's upper arm tightly and whispered into her ear, "As far as you're ever concerned, Zelda is mine. End of story. And I don't care who you are or what you mean to anyone – I won't have you f#cking with Audra and Zelda. Do you understand?" His voice gave her no options but to nod in agreement.

She rubbed her arm where he had been squeezing her. "Audra, are you still searching for a larger place?"

"Definitely. When Zelda is finally discharged, she'll need her own room."

"Well, darling, Joel knows of a professor who's in England on sabbatical and needs to lease out his townhouse. From what he says, it sounds perfect. Completely furnished and in the historic district. Three bedrooms, two baths. And they would prefer to lease it to someone working at the university."

"Oh, that sounds ideal," I enthused.

"We need to check the address. We don't want you to end up in a neighborhood like the one you were in before," Blue Eyes cautioned.

I turned, angrily, to stare at him. "You just can't let me be happy, can you?" I accused. "Are you afraid you'll lose control of me if I move out?"

"I've never _had_ control of you, Tiger."

Mother handed me a slip of paper. "Here's the address and the number to call _if_ you're interested." She gave Blue Eyes a haughty glare.

At the same time, Jim walked back towards us, and I saw Succubus leave the office suite. "What'd she want?" Blue Eyes automatically asked.

Jim shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shooting uncomfortable glances at me.

"Oh, f#cking he!!," I muttered and walked into the reception area, introducing myself to those I didn't know while collecting discarded napkins and cups for the garbage. Here I was, a glorified garbage collector, while the man I wanted to care about was busy getting the latest update on his old girlfriend. When Troy asked if he could assist me, I smiled prettily at him and retied his tie for the whole room to see.

Mother snuck up behind me. "Audra, dear, is Allen the father of your baby?"

I sighed heavily. "Just keep picking at the sore, Mother."

"That's not a denial, dear."

"You've seen the birth certificate. Leave it at that."

"But, Audra, if Allen is the father, he would help provide for her. _And_ he'd want to make things possible for you to move back home."

I looked deeply into her alcoholic eyes. "I'm not moving back to Alabama, Mother."

Dr. Mebane moved, hesitantly, up to me. "Audra, I wanted to offer my congratulations."

I shifted my attention to David. "Thank you, David. I appreciate that. Dr. David Mebane, this is my mother, Imogene Jeffrey."

Mother flashed her flirtatious smile at the professor. "I'm pleased to meet you, Dr. Mebane. I've been so concerned about Audra, alone in this northern university, that it's a relief to meet some of her colleagues."

"Well, I am always available to assist Audra in any way I can," he assured my mother. I wanted to roll my eyes at the irony of his words.

"Aren't you a chivalrous gentleman," my mother complimented him.

"That he is," I said sarcastically.

Jim and Blue Eyes joined us. I made the introductions, although B.E. remembered David.

"Oh, yes," he started as I winced, "you're the guy who's supposed to have half a dozen children. I understand you overestimated."

David didn't flinch. "I have a teen-aged son in Ohio with his mother." He turned to me. "And I understand you have a daughter, Audra. How is she?"

"She's doing well."

"Joel says you may be moving into Todd Burmeister's townhouse while he's on sabbatical. It's a beautiful place. His wife has excellent taste. I'm sure you would find it very comfortable for you and your daughter."

"I'm excited to see it," I answered.

David's face brightened. "I have a spare set of keys – Todd and I live in the same subdivision – so I can give you the grand tour whenever it would suit you."

"How about tomorrow, after lunch?" Blue Eyes asked. "Since Audra and I are living together, I would naturally need to take _the grand tour_, too."

I could have strangled him. "That's really not necessary. I can look at the townhouse alone."

Mother interjected, "Yes, tomorrow after lunch would be a perfect time, if Dr. Mebane is agreeable. I would, also, like to see where my daughter and granddaughter will be living." She touched David's elbow with her long fingers to punctuate her words.

"If you like, we can meet for lunch in the neighborhood and then go from there. Say one o'clock at the Main Street Bistro? I'm sure Dr. House can find it."

"That sounds lovely, Dr. Mebane," Mother purred.

David grasped my hand in a hasty handshake. "I'm sorry to rush, but I have another appointment. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

As soon as David had exited the offices, I grabbed Blue Eyes by the elbow. "What the he!! was that? You have no business approving _my_ apartment!"

"Perhaps Dr. House means to move in with you, Audra. It would make sense, in preparation of the marriage," Mother suggested in her quiet accent.

Jim shook his head and muttered, "Marriage?"

"For the last time, we're not getting married," I exclaimed a little too loudly. Several people around us ceased their conversations to stare at me. B.E. chuckled. I gave him a warning look. "Don't you even think you might be moving in with me."

"Not very gracious, are you, since I've been letting you stay with me all this time," he sniped.

"I can move back into the Radisson tonight," I threatened.

Mother put her hand on Jim's arm. "A lover's tiff. They'll be so much happier once they stop avoiding the inevitable."

Jim stared curiously at Mother. "What _is_ the inevitable, Imogene?"

"James, surely a man of your sophistication can recognize a couple hopelessly in love with each other."

Jim stared at B.E. and me, his head cocked. "Hopeless, they are."

When the offices had finally emptied, and I had thanked and congratulated Cindy and Troy, Blue Eyes asked if I was going to the hospital to see Zelda.

"I have to. I'm so full of milk, I'm about to burst. I'm just lucky it hasn't leaked through yet."

B.E. turned to Jim. "Can you drop Imogene at the Radisson, Wilson, so I can ride to the hospital with Tiger?"

Jim smiled graciously. "I'd be delighted."

Mother was obviously pleased with that arrangement, too. "What a pleasure, James. We will have some time to chat in private. Do you have dinner plans?"

I shook my head as they walked off together.

Blue Eyes whispered in my ear, "Is Pontius Pilate ever going to leave?"

"I'm beginning to wonder."

When we reached the hospital, I discovered it was impossible to unleash a breast while keeping my other parts covered in my new dress, so Blue Eyes found me a pair of bright, orange scrubs. As I situated myself in a chair preparatory to his handing me Zelda, I told Blue Eyes, "I look like I've escaped a work release program."

"I thought you'd like them. Orange is one of your college's colors," he responded as he cautiously placed Zelda in my arms.

As usual, my milk let down in a torrent, but this time she actually closed her tiny mouth around my nipple and began, very weakly, to suck. I stared at her, transfixed, for a few seconds before I said anything.

"Blue Eyes, look. She's sucking," I whispered as if I was afraid she'd hear me and stop.

"She's not yet three weeks old. Are you sure?" he asked skeptically, leaning over my shoulder to watch.

"It hasn't happened often lately, but I do know what it feels like when my nipple is being sucked."

"Are you complaining?"

"Does this mean she'll be coming home soon?"

"She still needs to put some meat on her bones, but it's a good sign."

I hesitated, but I finally asked, "What did Jim have to tell you about Stacy?"

He sighed and sat down beside me. "She's divorcing Mark. Now he's no longer dependent on a wheelchair, and she's happier in Princeton with her work at the university, she wants to start fresh."

"With you?"

"According to Wilson, she's been trying to tell me in person, but every time she sees me my dick is tied to your waist."

I looked askance at him. "She did not say that."

"No, but I thought it would amuse you."

"When Jim told you about Stacy, was he suggesting you get back together with her?"

"He was just delivering a message." He paused before speaking again. "Tiger, when I was seeing her last fall, I never f#cked her."

"No?"

"No. Wilson told you, though, didn't he?"

I smiled. "Yes, but I didn't believe him."

"What? You didn't believe the fresh-faced, boy oncologist?"

"No one ever tells the truth. Why should Jim be any different?"

"Good point."

I finished feeding Zelda, and we reluctantly said goodnight to her. On the way back to B.E.'s apartment, we stopped and got Thai take-out. He made me sit on the sofa while he got the utensils and drinks. He brought vodka for me and scotch for him. As usual, he attacked his meal aggressively.

"You really don't need to come with me tomorrow," I said.

"I'm not letting that lecher squire you around Princeton alone," he muttered while he ate.

"I don't think he's much of a lecher where I'm concerned. Everyone now thinks we're engaged."

"Is that really such a bad thing?"

"What?" I asked in surprise. "You don't mind my mother telling everyone we're getting married?"

"Tiger, we've been sharing a one bedroom apartment. Don't you think it might have occurred to some we were more than just platonic roommates? I mean, Stacy certainly assumed the worst."

"Well, let me call her right now and disabuse her of any notion that we care about each other. I definitely don't want to be the one keeping you two lovebirds apart," I said heatedly.

"Why are you getting all hysterical? I told you I didn't f#ck her. You should be happy."

I slammed my plate on the coffee table. "But you want to. You wish you had f#cked her, and you want to f#ck her now, don't you?"

He placed his food more sedately on the coffee table. "No, I'm not, at the moment, thinking at all about f#cking Stacy."

I stood up with the intention of leaving the room, but he reached up and grabbed my hand, pulling me on top of him. I moved to get up, but his face moved towards mine, and I was kissing him before I even realized it. He shoved me backwards onto the sofa and crawled on top of me, never once breaking the kiss. We hadn't kissed in a long time, and I had forgotten the taste of his tongue, the heat of his face pressing into mine, the smell of his cologne mixed with scotch and spices and sweat. I pulled on his shirts, and he struggled out of them as quickly as he could while still maintaining some physical contact with me. He helped me get my top and my bra off; he buried his face between my sore breasts, kissing and licking and sucking them gently. At the same time, we both reached for the other's pants, fighting to make the other naked, fighting to feel our nakedness against each other. His erection pressed into my stomach; my legs encircled his waist, grabbing him. As he slid into me, I moaned, and he kissed my mouth and continued kissing my mouth as he moved inside me. He moved with a torturous leisureliness, building the tension in me. I reached for his ss and pulled him even closer to me. I could feel his chuckle even as his tongue caressed my mouth.

"Tell me," he whispered.

I kept my eyes closed and wouldn't speak.

He continued to thrust into me at the same, agonizing rate. "Tell me," he urged.

I shook my head.

"Look at me," he begged.

I looked into his eyes and fell into their all-consuming universe.

"Tell me," he said again.

"I want you," I whispered.

I felt the beginning of his orgasm as he shoved himself harder into me.

"Again," he said.

"I want you," I said again, more loudly, as I felt the first spasms of my orgasm.

"How much?" he asked, his eyes still holding mine captive.

"All I know," I said.

He groaned as his ejaculation strengthened, pushing into me with all of his effort.

"Who do you want?" he asked.

I tried to look away, but I was overcome by my own convulsions. I felt him grind against me, knowing he was emptying himself into me, and I could only answer him. "I only want you."


	19. Chapter 19: The Townhouse and A Date

Chapter Nineteen: The Townhouse and A Date

We moved to the bedroom together, in silence. Blue Eyes fell asleep immediately, curled around me, his arm wrapped around me, cupping my breast. I listened to the familiar sound of his sleeping hum and chanted to myself, "Nothing you say during sex counts."

I was up early the next morning, pumping milk for Zelda, when he finally stirred. "Want to go by the hospital on the way to lunch?" he asked while stretching.

"You're still going?"

"Yep."

I nodded. "Okay, but you're buying."

After showering, I searched through my meager wardrobe and finally pulled on an oversized, black, v-neck sweater over my black jeans. As I was forcing my foot into one of my red cowboy boots, I felt B.E.'s gaze on me.

"Why aren't you wearing one of your old t-shirts? You're trying to impress this guy," he accused.

"Yes. I'm trying to convince him I will take good care of the expensive, furnished townhouse of his colleague so he will let me rent it. Why are you so jealous?"

He shuffled uneasily, popping one of his pills into his mouth. "This guy is going to take advantage of you."

"You mean," I asserted, "he's going to _try_ to take advantage of me. Give me some credit, Blue Eyes."

"You're not always the best judge of character."

I raised my eyebrows. "Which explains why I'm here with you."

"So you get my point."

I smiled, and we left to visit Zelda.

We were the first to arrive at the Main Street Bistro. We grabbed a large table and examined the menu of the frou-frou café. B.E. leaned against my shoulder and said, "Ph.D. guy picked this place; he must be gay."

I laughed unwillingly.

Mother was next to arrive with Jim in tow. B.E. and I exchanged curious glances as Jim held Mother's chair for her. Mother pulled out a cigarette and handed Jim her lighter, which he also held for her. Mother inhaled gratefully on her cigarette, and released a long stream of smoke into the air above our heads.

"How nice to see you two," she said congenially to B.E. and me.

David walked into the restaurant then, and Mother turned her attention to welcoming him. Blue Eyes grabbed Jim's arm.

"What are you doing with Sweeney Todd?" he demanded.

Jim shrugged. "I think she thinks I'm her chauffeur."

I shook my head in amazement.

"Actually, she's very interesting. Did you know she graduated summa cum laude with a BS in physics?" Jim whispered to B.E.

David took the seat between Mother and me. We all placed our orders while Mother directed the conversation.

"David," she began, "I believe you said this townhouse is in your subdivision. Does that mean you live nearby?"

"Yes. My townhouse is only a few blocks away from Dr. Burmeister's. Audra and I would be neighbors," he concluded, bestowing a toothy grin on me.

I felt Blue Eyes stiffen beside me.

"But it's already furnished, right? Because _we_ will need room for baby furniture," Blue Eyes insisted in a demanding tone.

"A crib doesn't take up much space," I said.

"If you want to remove any of the furnishings, Todd rents a storage building where we can store anything you don't want," David said.

Blue Eyes looked disappointed. "And how much is the rent?"

David smiled at Blue Eyes but directed his words to me. "After you see the townhouse, we'll discuss a reasonable fee. Todd mainly wants someone reliable to keep the place occupied so no one vandalizes it."

Our bridge-lady lunches arrived.

"Audra," David said, "Joel let me read a draft of the paper you have coming out next month. I was wondering if you'd like to get a jump on your doctoral work with an independent study this summer?"

I perked up. "Relating to Simon Gray?"

He nodded. "You know contemporary American Lit is my specialty, so I thought you might want to do some research and expand the thesis of that paper, perhaps including other plays and comparing them to American fictional characters. It would give you a chance to do some research you could use in your dissertation, plus you'd certainly get another published paper out of it."

Blue Eyes leaned around me. "Whose name would be on that paper?"

David regarded B.E. mildly. "What are you implying, Dr. House?"

I tried to subtly elbow Blue Eyes. "I'm sure I would get credit for any independent work."

"Is she correct, _Dr. Mebane_?"

David looked back to me. "You can think about it, Audra. If you're interested, write a brief proposal, and I'll look over it."

Mother tried to make peace. "You know, Audra has always been passionate about literature, but her strongest subjects in school were always in mathematics."

"Oh, Mother," I groaned.

"I tried to persuade her to major in math theory, but she has always been strong minded."

"Greg and I are the liberal arts throwbacks," I said.

Mother laughed. "Both of my children are strong minded."

"Imogene," Blue Eyes began, "I tried to get your son to let me run some diagnostic tests on him, but he refused. Perhaps you could change his mind? I'm sure I can . . ."

Mother interrupted him. "Thank you for your offer, Gregory, but my son is an adult. I wouldn't dream of trying to persuade him to do something against his own wishes." She nodded dismissively at him.

"If everyone's finished, we can go on to the townhouse," David said.

I watched the maneuvering over the check; not surprisingly, Jim ended up with it as well as with Mother.

The townhouse was lovely. The subdivision of renovated townhouses from the nineteenth century was insulated and intimate with tree-lined streets and communal flower beds now dusted with snow. The home David took us into was two-story, with the master bedroom and bath along with another bedroom on the first floor; the second floor had another bedroom and bath and a large office space. The backyard was small but appealing with a stone patio and a covered parking area. The furniture was mostly antique; David had been accurate when he said the owner's wife had good taste. Even Blue Eyes, as resistant as he was to the idea of my moving near David, was impressed. Of course, the baby grand piano in the family room had immediately caught his eye.

"Audra, although I would prefer you and your fiancé moved to Alabama, I have to admit, this would be a lovely place to start a marriage and a family," Mother said as we concluded our tour.

"Mother, I'm not getting married. We haven't even _dated_."

"Darling," she said, "your relationship with Gregory may have begun untraditionally, but that's no reason to reject the family values we've raised you with."

I rolled my eyes.

Surprisingly, Blue Eyes agreed with her. "Imogene, you've made a good point." He turned to me. "We should date."

"Are you asking me out?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow night. A date."

"You realize you're doing this in front of witnesses?"

Jim chuckled. "She's right. There are witnesses."

Blue Eyes nodded. "Your answer?"

I nodded.

David coughed. "I don't want to interrupt, but I need to be going. You have my phone number, Audra. Call me and we can negotiate the rent. And I'll be happy to help you with any moving chores." He smiled kindly and patted my arm.

I thanked him and assured him I would be in touch very soon. As we watched him drive off, I turned to Mother.

"How would you like to go to the hospital and see your granddaughter?"

She was holding another cigarette, waiting for Jim to light it, but she stopped and looked at me. "I'm sure your daughter is lovely, Audra, but I don't want to see her fettered with medical wires and tubes. You know I'm not comfortable around babies, anyway."

Blue Eyes looped his left arm around my waist and squeezed me. "Of course, Mother. How silly of me to ask."

Mother, exhaling smoke, turned to Jim. "I hope you don't mind driving me back to the hotel, James. I think it's time for a cocktail."

Jim held out his arms helplessly. "Of course, Imogene."

Blue Eyes and I stood together, light snow dusting us, as Jim helped Mother into his car.

"Do you think Vlad has drugged Wilson?" Blue Eyes asked me.

I leaned into him. "I know she's awful to me, but when she wants, she can be quite charming."

"Tiger, your voice lacks all sincerity. Let's go feed Zelda."

"Blue Eyes," I asked as we walked to the truck, "are you serious about a date?"

"Yes, Little Mama, I am."

I spent Sunday early moving my possessions to the townhouse. Blue Eyes, not surprisingly, went to the hospital to sulk. Mother and her new companion, Jim, assisted me in the transition. Nothing of my own was nearly as fine as what existed in the townhouse, so I allowed my dishes and linens to remain in storage. As for the evening date, Blue Eyes had been cryptic but had said to dress casually but warmly. He was scheduled to pick me up at the townhouse at six.

Mother, who was apparently moving into the townhouse with me (on the second floor), stopped me after lunch.

"Audra, sit down and have a beer," she said, which was her way of saying she wanted to talk.

I got myself a Corona and sat at the table in the dining nook that looked into the back patio. "When are you going home, Mother?"

She glanced around to make sure Jim wasn't nearby, then said, "Audra, I'm not in a hurry to leave. I don't doubt that comes as no surprise."

"Mother, you can't hide with me. If you have problems with Daddy, you have to go through them with _him_. Not me."

She sighed and played with a cigarette, which I wouldn't let her smoke inside the townhouse, "You're right."

"I'd just feel better if you weren't hovering around when Blue Eyes brings me home tonight. First real date, you know."

"Audra, why do you want someone who doesn't appreciate you?"

I didn't have an answer for her. She was, as ill as it made me feel, correct.

Jim, while we were talking, retrieved a beer and joined us.

I looked into Mother's watery eyes. "Why don't you think he appreciates me?"

She turned her stare to Jim. "James, do you think Dr. House feels the same way about Audra as he felt about Stacy?"

Jim turned his beer bottle in his hands, examining it. "His feelings for Stacy are complex. They have a long history together."

Mother put her hand over mine. "That would be a 'no,' Audra."

"Does anyone mind if I go on this 'date' with a positive attitude?" I asked testily.

"House doesn't ask people out on dates. I think you _should_ be optimistic," Jim tried to salve my feelings. "I truly believe he cares about you and Zelda."

Even I knew there was a difference between being cared about and having someone in love with you. I remembered our tryst on his sofa; I had told him what he had wanted to hear. Did I mean it? Why was it so important for him to hear it? If he wanted me to be solely interested in him, what need of his did that reveal? Was it just ego?

"Do you think he's capable of having a healthy relationship with a woman?"

Jim took a drink from his beer. "He's been hurt by his family, and then by Stacy. There's a lot to get through for him to be ready for someone like you, Audra. But I think he wants to try with you. When he was 'dating' Stacy in the fall, it was totally at her demand, and she controlled the level of intimacy they had. He's voluntarily asked you to go out with him, through no manipulations of yours. I think that's a good omen."

I smiled at him in gratitude.

"Go get take a hot bath and get ready." Mother ordered.

As I put my empty bottle in the trash, I heard Mother tell Jim, "Why don't you pour us a cocktail, James, and we'll see what we can find on the plasma tv. It is high def, isn't it?"

I chose a pair of green corduroy trousers, which I was proud to be able to get into, with a paler green, ballet-neck top. I hoped it showed off my collarbone and my eyes. I felt awkward, applying eyeliner and mascara. I left my hair loose, restrained by a narrow headband. I was much more anxious than I could understand.

I didn't hear Blue Eyes' knock, but Mother, apparently, let him in. He joined Jim in the kitchen, where the latter was cooking beef enchiladas with a tomatillo and guava salsa. Mother knocked on my bedroom door, a tumbler of something alcoholic in her hand.

"Your doctor is here," she said.

I met him in the kitchen where he was making faces at the bubbling pots Jim was overseeing.

"Hi," I said, still nervous.

He turned when he heard me. "Did you know Wilson was endeavoring to peel the wallpaper from your rented walls?"

I smiled at Jim. "It smells delicious, Jim. Ignore Blue Eyes."

"I always do," he replied.

Blue Eyes crinkled his nose in distaste. "Come on, Tiger, let's find some food that's more palatable."

"Mother," I called as I was closing the door, "don't be up when I get home."

Blue Eyes had his battered, old car. "Where are we going?" I asked.

He smiled as he slid into the driver's seat. "To a hockey game. Princeton versus Penn. It should be a close game."

"In Alabama, we don't have many ice hockey teams. Of course, we don't have a lot of ice."

"That's why I'm not letting you drive. You're dangerous on winter roads."

I bristled. "Fine. Not being the designated driver has its advantages."

Supper consisted of hot dogs and beer at the ice rink. The game was, indeed, close. "I never thought about it before," I told B.E. "but hockey players are hot."

He swallowed a pill and glared at me from the corners of his eyes. "Like the no teeth look, do you?"

"I think I'm responding to the overwhelming amount of testosterone."

"You're a NASCAR fan, aren't you?"

"Haven't been. Of course, Talladega _is_ in Alabama."

"You like monster trucks?" he asked.

"Don't know. Never seen one."

"We'll have to go. Monster trucks are killer."

I liked this version of Blue Eyes. He was still prickly, but he seemed more relaxed.

Princeton tried for a tying goal in the last seconds, but missed badly. I was obscenely disappointed.

"I can't believe they took such a f#cking bad shot!" I screamed at him. "Even I could see Harper was open. Why not pass, for pete's sake? I'll be dammed!"

Blue Eyes laughed at me. "Calm down, Tiger. There'll be other games."

I stared at him, full of adrenaline and rage. "You've never been to a SEC football game, have you? We're raised on competition. Not winning is never okay, especially not when the game is close. We should have won this f#cking game."

He just laughed harder. "It's a game. Take it easy."

I pummeled his chest with my fists. "How can you accept defeat so calmly?"

He wrapped his free arm around me, leaning heavily on his cane. "I don't accept defeat, Tiger. I just know we'll get another chance."

I shook my head. "No. I don't buy that. I'm not a 'wait till next year' kind of girl. Everything is about now."

As I opened my mouth to criticize his easygoing acceptance of the final score, he moved his hand from my waist to the back of my head, holding it still while he kissed me. I was still in hyper-fan mode and wanting to battle, but the determination of his hand in my hair and his tongue in my mouth eclipsed my preoccupation with the game. I leaned against his chest, running my right hand through his hair, and succumbed to a different sort of passion. When he lifted his head away from mine, I was out of breath and weak in the knees. "So, everything's about now, is it?" he whispered.

I licked my lips. "Yeah. Everything."

"Is Ms. Hyde spending the night in the townhouse?"

His hand stayed in my hair, helping to tilt my face back to look up into his seductive, blue-eyed gaze. "I think she's moved in."

He leaned over and hastily brushed my lips with his, pulling back before I could do more than graze him with the tip of my tongue. He smiled tantalizingly at me. "Would you like to go to my apartment?"

"What do you have there that I'd want?" I teased him.

"I'll play the piano for you and ply you with alcohol."

I rubbed my hips against his, feeling the beginning of his erection. I ran my hand from his hair down the side of his face, finally resting it on his chest. "This is just a first date. Besides, I have to be at my office early in the morning since classes begin tomorrow. I guess I really need to go home."

To my surprise, he removed his hand from my hair. "Whatever you want, Little Mama."


	20. Chapter 20: Wilson Moves In

Chapter Twenty: Wilson Moves In

When I entered the townhouse, my townhouse, I saw a light in the living room. Mother was curled up on the edge of the sofa, the sound muted on the television, a glass of watered down whiskey beside her. I sat in a chair across from her.

"Why are you still up?"

"Waiting on you, dear," she answered, slurring only slightly.

"Did you send Jim home?" I asked.

"I sent him to bed. He's in the spare room downstairs."

I straightened up in my chair. "You gave _Jim_ Zelda's room?"

She sipped her drink. "He's been living in a hotel, darling. We can't have that."

"Mother, you invited Jim to move _in_?"

"I didn't really invite him, but it seems to be a convenient solution. He's an excellent cook."

"But you don't even like food." I shook my head. "Are you and Jim having some sort of . . ."

"Audra, do not dare suggest anything vulgar." She took another drink. "James is a lovely, perfectly respectable gentleman. A _young_ gentleman."

I relaxed back in my chair. "But I'm now sharing my townhouse with him, and with you. And I've lost Zelda's room. All of this while on a date with Blue Eyes. Sh!t."

"I was afraid you'd spend the night with him."

"First date, Mother. Starting at scratch."

She laughed. "You can't go backwards." She paused. "The baby's father – it wouldn't be that doctor you dated for awhile?"

"We're pretending Zelda's father is Blue Eyes, for the record. Off the record, she's fatherless."

"You love _this_ doctor, don't you, Audra?"

"I wouldn't know how it felt, Mother. I have no idea."

She stretched tiredly. "Go to bed, Audra. You don't want to be late for your new job."

I stood up, kissed her upturned cheek out of habit, and went to bed. When I awoke the next morning and finished my shower, I exited my bedroom to find both Mother and Jim in the kitchen, drinking coffee and chatting.

"Good morning," Jim said. He was apparently cooking omelettes.

I declined his offer of coffee. I went to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. "Do you always get up so early, Jim?"

He was dressed for work. He flipped an omelette onto a plate and offered it to me. "I like to get to the hospital early. Make my rounds."

"Thanks," I said as I took my plate to the table and joined Mother. "I'm going to go by there and feed Zelda before I go to the university."

Mother was picking at her omelette and drinking coffee. "Is there anything I need to do here while you're gone?"

I smiled evilly at her. "Since Jim cooked, you can do the dishes. And my laundry. And vacuum. And . . . "

She held up her hand. "I get the idea, Audra."

Jim finally joined us with his omelette. "Audra, I hope it didn't bother you I spent the night . . ."

I extended my arms. "You're welcome here, Jim. It's ridiculous for you to stay in a hotel if you're going to be hanging out here, anyway. Why don't you just move your things in? Mother's excellent at ironing dress shirts."

Jim and Mother exchanged looks.

"Audra, I didn't mean to invite myself."

I took my dishes to the sink. "You didn't invite yourself, Jim. Mother asked for you. I'll see you two this evening."

When I finished nursing Zelda, I took a side trip by Blue Eyes' office. I knew it was far too early for him to have arrived, but I had a desire to see his desk, his red ball, his globe, the detritus on his desk. When I reached it, the conference room was open and bright. I pushed the door open and saw Allison making coffee.

"Can I help you?" she asked stiffly. She looked very uncomfortable.

"Would you mind if I leave a note for Dr. House?"

She shook her head. I searched for a piece of paper; finally, she handed me some notepaper and a pen. I had to think.

Dear Blue Eyes,

I stopped by to feed Zelda. I don't plan to work a full day, so I thought I'd come back by to feed her sometime this afternoon. If you think you might be free for a visit, call me at the university and let me know.

Audra

I thought it sounded a bit unfriendly, but I knew Allison would read it, and I didn't want her to glean anything about our date from it. I toyed with telling him Jim was moving in, but I worried his reaction would not be favorable. I elected to allow Jim the chance to deliver that tidbit.

"Will you give this to him?" I asked Allison, handing her the note.

"Of course."

As I turned to leave, I ran into Jim.

"Hello again," he said with a cheery smile.

"Are you going to tell Blue Eyes you're moving in?" I asked as we strolled away from the conference room and Allison's ears.

"He'll react with jealousy, you know."

"It's also none of his business, Jim. And neither of us has done anything to give him a valid reason to be jealous."

He chuckled. "Since when does House need a valid reason for anything?"

I spent the rest of the morning in my university office. I was teaching three online courses this semester, so Cindy and Troy helped me prepare the online syllabi and writing modules for them. I hurriedly wrote an independent study proposal for the summer and had it delivered to David. I received a request from Joel for course descriptions for the new catalog, as well as an agenda for future meetings with various departments and instructors to popularize the services and assistance we could provide. I finally took a break at lunchtime; Troy fetched me a grilled chicken salad from a nearby deli. While I was eating, I called my father.

"Will Jeffrey," he answered his work phone.

"Hi, Daddy. It's Audra."

"Well, hello, honey. How are you?"

"I'm fine. And Zelda, your granddaughter, is getting stronger. She's topped three pounds now."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Daddy, Mother has moved with me into a townhouse I'm renting. She doesn't seem to want to come home. Could you shed some light on her reticence?"

"Your mother, I am sure, has her reasons," was his curt reply.

"Are you two bickering again?"

"Is there anything else you wanted, Audra? Do you need money?"

That was my father; when in doubt, offer cash.

"I was hoping you'd come visit. Maybe this weekend."

"I'll think about it. I really must go, Audra."

I was frustrated with my father's complacency in the face of my mother's defection. I finally called Greg.

"You've got to come convince Mother to go home," I told him as soon as he answered his cell phone.

"Cissy, I'm in the middle of a business lunch. Could we discuss this later?" he asked.

"Nothing to discuss. Get your butt down here this weekend to talk to Mother."

"I'll take your suggestion under advisement. I'll talk to you this evening."

Somehow, I didn't expect Greg was going to heed my demands. I hung up the phone feeling impotent.

By two I was exhausted and needed to relieve the discomfort of my aching breasts. I headed to the hospital even though I hadn't heard from Blue Eyes.

Zelda was awake and alert, and she seemed stronger while she actually nursed successfully. I got up to replace Zelda when Blue Eyes, hovering unseen and scowling unhappily, stepped forward and took her from me. He cradled her in his arms, humming soothingly, and said, "Got your note. You weren't going to stop by my office just because I didn't call you?"

"I was loath to interrupt you. And _Mother_ moved Jim in. I just elected not to evict him."

He returned a sleeping Zelda to her crib. "Are you telling me Idi Amin is running your household?"

"Would you really be surprised?"

We removed our protective gowns and walked outside the nursery. "Are _they_ dating?"

I shook my head. "The most I can figure is he cooks and listens. What he's getting out of it is anyone's guess."

"Then no one will mind if I come over for supper tonight?"

I stopped, hand on hip, and looked at him. "I thought we were dating?"

"And you're having me over for supper tonight."

"I didn't think dating was so confrontational."

"It's the House version."

I shrugged. "I learn_ so_ much from you. And you'd better ask Jim if he minds adding you to his supper guest list."

"He won't mind." He reached out and touched my hand. "Wouldn't you prefer to just come over to my apartment for take-out?"

I smiled at the little-boy look he gave me. "Maybe. But I think I'd be safer with Mother and Jim chaperoning."

When I got home from the hospital, I found Mother in the laundry room ironing sheets.

"Why on earth are you ironing bed sheets?" I asked in shock.

She smiled condescendingly at me. "Only heathens sleep on unpressed sheets."

I just laughed at her. "I'm going to take a nap. Blue Eyes has invited himself for supper. I assume Jim is cooking?"

She clucked impatiently. "He has some steaks marinating. He's fixing blackened meat. Something Cajun. You know I only pretend to understand what he's saying when he talks about food."

"That reminds me. I talked to Daddy during lunch." I watched, but her face showed no emotion. "I asked him to come up here. To see Zelda."

"You know he's very busy at work," was her only response.

I laid down in bed and found myself thinking about Blue Eyes. I was losing the ability to think of him without my emotions getting in the way. And I particularly didn't want to examine those.

The closing of the front door around six woke me from my nap. I expressed milk for Zelda. Then, I put on my jeans and a Three Dog Night t-shirt, washing my face and brushing my teeth before I joined the pair in the kitchen. Mother was parked at the table, a tumbler of some dark-colored liquid near her hand, and Jim was tying on an apron. They were both laughing.

"What am I interrupting?" I asked as I put the breast milk in the refrigerator.

"Not a thing," Jim said pleasantly. "Have a seat. What would you like to drink?" He was tossing a plastic spatula from hand to hand.

"Beer, if there is any."

Jim zipped to the refrigerator and handed me an opened Corona before I had hardly gotten the request out.

Mother giggled like a schoolgirl. "James is rather excited about his day. And his marinating meat."

The two looked at each other and laughed like loons. I thought I had entered the twilight zone.

"Blue Eyes has invited himself for supper," I said quietly.

"That's fine," Jim answered, still moving around the kitchen in a quick-time version of a chef. "I'm going to try grilling on this Viking indoor gas grill. This is a professional chef's kitchen – nothing amateur about it." He was far too excited about the range top.

"Jim, perhaps I could get _you_ something to drink."

"No," he chirped, pulling an open beer from behind a cookbook. "I'm taken care of." He continued dancing around the kitchen, eventually setting a platter of grape tomatoes before us. "Be careful – these have been soaking in Tequila."

I looked from him to my mother; they were insane. He set out a plate containing margarita salt and toothpicks and demonstrated the stab-and-dip eating technique. We both emulated him, and although I didn't want to admit it, the tomatoes were delicious as well as highly alcoholic. He swerved back to the table, squeezed fresh lime juice over the platter, speared a couple more for his own mouth, then veered back to his chopping board and fresh vegetables. I stared at Mother, but she was chewing on one of the tomatoes with a pleased smile on her face.

The sound of the front door being firmly closed, followed by footsteps punctuated by the thumping of a cane, signaled Blue Eyes' arrival. He followed the sounds of Jim's cleaver to find us.

"Hello," he said, nodding to everyone. He stabbed a tomato and threw it into his mouth before we could say anything. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Who put tomatoes in the Tequila? Good way to ruin good alcohol."

Jim, still hyper, handed him an opened beer and motioned for him to sit down. He slid into the chair beside me, taking a good swig of his beer at the same time. "Aren't we cozy?" he asked.

"Jim has had a very good day. How about you, Gregory?" Mother asked.

"Sent home a patient," he answered while poking a toothpick into one of the miniature tomatoes. "What did you do to entertain yourself today, Imogene?"

"I read an interesting article on possible candidates for the presidency. But I don't suppose that would make suitable conversation."

"No politics during food prep," Jim exclaimed. "I can't argue and cook at the same time."

Blue Eyes leaned over to whisper, rather loudly, into my ear. "Is Wilson intoxicated?"

I laughed. "Not unless he got here that way."

Blue Eyes looked at Jim. "So, Wilson, what gives? You stop off at the pub on your way home?"

Jim shook his beer at B.E. "Not I. Nope."

Mother giggled. I shrugged at B.E. "Perhaps we should search the place for pods?"

Jim poured oil into a cast iron wok. He was juggling several dishes, steaming rice, grilling the steaks, and now sautéing a mixture of vegetables, while a sauce simmered on a back burner. From time to time, he would dip a spoon into the sauce and taste it.

"I never realized you enjoyed cooking as performance art," I remarked.

He handed me a fresh beer as he opened one for himself, never loosing the rhythm of his cooking. B.E. was popping tomatoes in his mouth with an alcoholic fervor. Mother, who sipped daintily on her drink, maintained a gentle smile that made her look young and vivacious.

"I wanted to get a range top like this when my third wife and I bought our house, but she couldn't see the purpose. I hope everyone likes their beef rare."

Blue Eyes nodded, his mouth full, and waggled his empty beer; Jim replaced it with a full one while turning the steaks and stirring the rice, all in one smooth movement. He noticed Mother's glass and took it to the freezer, where he dropped in several ice cubes for her. She thanked him prettily when he returned it.

"Is Darth, there, dating Wilson?" Blue Eyes whispered to me.

"I have no earthly idea," I answered.

Mother got up and set the table, darting around Jim's orchestrated cooking routine. She may have been inebriated, but she definitely still stood on firm ground. I ate another Tequila-laced tomato and watched. Jim brought dishes of food to the table, picking out a particular piece of steak and depositing it on Mother's plate. He then served her rice and the mixed vegetables and poured some of the simmering sauce beside her steak, tending to her with what passed as affection. I think my mouth dropped open about the time Jim sat down across from me.

"What?" he asked.

"You two are acting strange," I accused.

Blue Eyes wasted no time heaping food onto his plate. I elbowed him, but it didn't deter his feeding frenzy. He looked at my plate, stole a snow pea I had just scooped out of the serving bowl, and shoved it into his own mouth. He grinned at me while chewing.

"How is your steak, Imogene?" Jim asked Mother.

She sliced a small piece from the larger steak and smiled at Jim as she examined it. "Cooked perfectly, James."

Jim took a mock bow, and Mother provided the mock applause. I felt my stomach churn at the sight. "Mother," I began, but the phone interrupted me.

I excused myself and grabbed it, checking the caller ID. It was Greg, so I turned it on speaker phone.

"Greg," I said as I sat back down, "you're on speaker. We're just eating supper."

"Who is 'we'?"

We all called out our names.

"I'm missing the party," he said tersely. "Cissy, pick up."

"Oh, Greg, don't be a bad sport. If you were here Jim would feed you, too," I teased him.

"Cissy, pick up. Now."

I knew that tone of voice: something was wrong. I glanced at Blue Eyes, who was chewing happily, and sprinted for the phone. "What?" I asked as I carried it into the living room.

"Am I off the speaker?" he asked.

"Yes. What is wrong?"

"I just talked to Dad. I know what's up with Mother."

"Okay," I said. "You sound awful. What did he say?"

"Mother's sick, Cissy. Very sick."

The silence was frightening. "Well, I have a kitchen full of doctors. What's wrong with her?"

"Inoperable cancer. Small cell lung cancer, stage IV, that has metastasized to the liver and brain."

"What?" I said as I sunk into a chair.

"Dad says the doctors offered no hope at all, although she refused any suggestions of chemo or radiation. Her vanity wouldn't allow her to consider any treatment with disfiguring side effects."

"What?" I repeated.

"Cissy, where are you? Is House with you?"

"No. In the kitchen. How long has she known?"

"Since before Christmas. Cissy, get House to the phone. Let me talk to him."

"She's told Jim, hasn't she? That's why he's been so solicitous of her."

"Cissy, get House to the phone. Please, honey."

"Greg, you've got to be mistaken. She seems fine."

"Cissy, please, honey, go get House."

"Jim's an excellent doctor. He'll know what to do."

Greg sighed. "Mother has her medical records with her. Cissy, I'm sure she's shown them to Wilson. Now, please, get House to the phone."

Before I could utter another word, the phone was lifted from my hand. "What's going on, Greg?" Blue Eyes asked.

I felt his hand on my shoulder as he listened to Greg. I made a weak attempt to stand, but his hand pressed me back into the chair. My brain was rejecting everything Greg had told me. My mother was too mean to die. And certainly too egotistical to do it in secret. No, she was more the type to stage a grand scene, to play on everyone's sympathies. Pity was her manna. Her inner Camille would be raging to get out. I started shaking my head determinedly. Blue Eyes knelt beside me, catching my chin in his free hand. His clear gaze, the eyes darkened to the color of the denim he wore, bore into me.

"Greg, if your mother wants this to be kept a secret . . ." Blue Eyes said, but he trailed off as Greg continued talking. Finally, Blue Eyes said, "Thanks, Greg. I'll take care of Audra. And I'll call you tomorrow."

He laid the phone down and grabbed both my hands. "She didn't want you to know, Tiger. She didn't want anyone to know."

"But . . ."

"No buts, Tiger. We can talk to Wilson tomorrow, at the hospital, but for now, you have to pretend everything's fine. Do you understand?"

I shook my head. "No. She can't be sick. She doesn't look sick."

"Tiger, she's been battling this for over a month. She knows her parameters. She wanted to be here, anonymously sick. You have to honor that."

"Why?" I raised my voice. "Why should I honor some selfish wish of hers? How dare she drag her sorry ass here to die!"

Blue Eyes pulled me to my feet and enveloped me in his long arms, crushing my face against his chest. "Tomorrow, after talking to Wilson, if you want to confront her with her behavior, any of her behavior, I will support you. But for tonight, give yourself time to process this."

"What is wrong with you? You're used to people dying. He!!, they drop like flies around you. This is just another part of the 'circle of life' for you. But for me, for me, it's my mother. The b!tch who rejected me, who rejected Greg, who still, everyday, rejects Zelda. You pity _her_?"

He clasped me more firmly to his chest. "I want you to give yourself some time to decide how you want to handle it. You're not, tonight, at the place to make that decision. B!tching her out will be the same tomorrow as today."

"No it won't!" I had begun to yell. "Tomorrow I will have lost my anger. I want to hold on to it, nurture it, grow it. I want my anger to be my overriding emotion."

"Okay. That's fine. But bring your anger tomorrow. Not tonight. Please."

Jim entered the room slowly, respectfully. "Audra, your mother's gone on to bed."

"She heard me."

"No," he said with deliberation, "but she has a fair idea of the purpose of Greg's call. She's tired, Audra. It would be best if you let her get some sleep tonight. The two of you can negotiate tomorrow."

"How long have you known?" I demanded.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Audra, but Imogene is now my patient, and I am bound by our doctor/patient relationship."

"You're not going to tell me sh!t," I groused.

Blue Eyes looked at Jim over my head. He mouthed, "Have any ativan we can give her?"

Jim nodded and went to his bedroom.

"I do not want to be drugged."

"I know that, Little Mama, but you are spiraling out of control. We need to calm you down so you can give yourself time to take all of this in."

I started struggling against his embrace, thrashing and jerking and slinging my arms about. I managed to bang my open hand into his rather large nose, causing him to release me momentarily as he grabbed his injury. "Damm," he muttered.

I turned away from him, heading for the upstairs and Mother's bedroom, but Jim intercepted me. "House, hold her," he snapped brusquely.

Blue Eyes looped his arm around my waist and held his mouth next to my ear. "This shot works best in the butt muscle, which I will promise to massage until you fall asleep. However, if you keep fighting me, I'll give it anywhere, and it will hurt, and it won't take effect as quickly."

"You're going to do whatever you want," I complained.

He took the syringe from Jim, who judiciously left because Blue Eyes was then focused on pulling my jeans down to expose the desired muscle. I struggled half-heartedly. The injection was painful, and I whimpered. Blue Eyes pulled me up, leaning me against him with his arm still firmly encircling my waist.

"Come on, Little Mama. Let's get in your bedroom before you pass out."

I didn't even remember pulling my jeans back up.


	21. Chapter 21: Anger

Chapter Twenty-one: Anger

I woke up as the sun began to light the bedroom. Blue Eyes was beside me, humming in his sleep. My ass was sore from the needle, and my head was fuzzy from the ativan. The memory of the evening's revelations kept me pinned to my mattress. Mother. Dying. I had no way to make sense of anything anymore.

My breasts sagged with the weight of unleashed milk. I slipped out of bed, pulling on the jeans and t-shirt Blue Eyes had apparently relieved me of, trying not to wake him. As I opened the bedroom door, his voice stopped me.

"Where are you sneaking off to?"

I stood, my back to him, and answered, "I wanted to go feed Zelda. I want to hold her. Do you mind?"

He groaned as he moved his leg off the bed. "Let me get a quick shower and I'll go with you."

I turned to watch him sitting up, swallowing his pills. "I need to get out of here, Blue Eyes. I promise, I'm going straight to feed Zelda. You can meet me there."

"You won't wait five minutes?"

I shook my head. "I have to get out of here." I left the bedroom, grabbed my coat and briefcase, and headed for the hospital before I could encounter either Jim or Mother.

Blue Eyes entered the NICU as Zelda was draining her second breast of the morning. He pulled a chair beside me, holding his finger out for Zelda to wrap her tiny hand around, but he was looking at me.

"Stop it," I said.

"What?"

"You're staring at me. Do you think I'm suddenly going to burst into tears or something?"

"Damm, Tiger, I wish you would."

"I'll not shed a single tear for that selfish diva," I spat.

"Okay, Caddy Compson."

For the first time, I bristled at the fictional name he chose for me. Caddy's mother was vainglorious, reveling in the misery of her own life, the burden of her mentally impaired son. And Caddy was her siblings' caretaker until she discovered the secrets of sex and left her family forever. I jerked Zelda away from his touch and shoved her hastily into her crib. He stood, leaning heavily, painfully, on his cane.

"How dare you? Whenever anything happened she didn't want to handle, she abdicated, leaving it in my lap, making me the parent of my brother when I was seventeen and he was first diagnosed. And now she has the gall to come to me when she is sick and frightened, expecting me to suck it up and take care of her. Well, I won't do it. Not this time. She's on her own. And you need to find another playmate if you're going to object to my refusal to take on yet another burden for her."

He shook his head. "I don't expect you to do anything. I just want you to talk to me."

I laughed. "You're a liar. You don't want me to open my mouth. You want me to stay as silent as a stone unless I'm begging you to f#ck me."

Pain moved across his face. "Talk to Wilson. Please."

I walked outside, ripping the gown from my arms. "I'm going to the university. I have a job. People there who welcome my presence." By the time I reached the parking garage, I was running, sprinting, gasping for breath to fill my burning lungs. I drove to my office and hastily gave orders to Cindy and Troy. They both wore the patented looks of concern people who never really care always wear; I was curt, saying only the words I had to say to set them about their chores. I left them without explanation. I drove to the townhouse.

Mother was sitting at the kitchen table, fingering an unlit cigarette. She wore the same silk robe she always wore, rich in its paisley darkness, but, for the first time, I saw the way the material hung empty on her emaciated body. She was without makeup; the effect was startling. Her skin was sallow, hanging slackly about her mouth, and her eyes were colorless, buried in the dark hollows of her skull. The ring she always wore on the middle finger of her right hand, a cameo her own, beloved mother had given her, was so loose it turned effortlessly as she toyed with the cigarette. I sat across from her. I looked into the dying face of my mother, and she calmly looked back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered.

"I owe you nothing, Audra. Especially not an explanation."

"Why did you come here, then?"

"Because you would never turn me away."

"Is that all I am to you – a rest stop?"

She went to the coffeepot and filled her cup. "Audra, I have never enjoyed introspective conversations before. Whatever makes you think I'd care to indulge in them now?"

I put my head in my hands. "What about Daddy?"

"You know your father doesn't do well with infirmities."

As she brought her cup back to the table, I raised my head to spew out the obvious sarcastic retorts my brain concocted, but the sight of her frail wrist turned them to sand in my mouth. "What does Jim say?"

"Nothing the doctors at UAB haven't said."

"But he's Oncology Boy."

She, at least, smiled at that. "James is very sweet."

"So, you've just given up?"

"Not me, Audra. My body. My body has given up."

I had never, in all of my life, seen my mother cry, but her eyes were now pools of saline.

She looked away from me, swatting at an escaping tear. I wanted to know how long. I suddenly knew I had to go see Jim.

"Is there anything I can get you, Mama? I need to run an errand; I can bring you lunch. What would you like?"

"I'm not hungry, Audra. And James has some exotic recipe for us tonight." She forced a wan smile.

I patted her hand, feeling the fragile bones beneath the translucent layer of dry skin. "I'll be back, Mama, but you can call my cell if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," she said, head high.

I knocked on Jim's door, praying he would be there. He yelled, "Come in."

I hesitated, knowing he would not be happy to see me. I swung it open slowly. He stood up from behind his desk.

"Audra. Come in."

I made it to the chair in front of his desk; however, once I was seated, I crumbled. He sat back down, watching me with sad, warm eyes.

"What can you tell me?"

"Have you talked to her?"

We were dancing around the information. "Yes, Jim. All she'll say is that you've said nothing different from the doctors in Birmingham and that her body has given up."

"I've given her some meds to help with her discomfort," he said with a measured slowness. "She refuses to try chemo or radiation, although, to be honest, there's little chance either would help. It had progressed too far before she ever went to a doctor."

I shook my head. "She hates doctors."

"Audra, she won't talk about him, but what about your father?"

"He doesn't handle imperfections well."

Jim opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"It's okay, Jim. They're both odd ducks. I told you they were cousins. They had to marry each other. No one else could have tolerated either of them."

"What can I do for _you_?"

His question took me by surprise. "Tell me how long she has."

He shook his head. "She specifically asked me _not _to discuss time with you."

I tried to reassure him. "You've become her friend. Jim, I can think of no greater gift."

He smiled his crooked smile. "You may find this hard to believe, but I honestly like your mother, Audra. She is very courageous."

I bristled. "She may be stoic, Jim, but she is not _courageous_. I know _courageous_."

He waved his hand across his desk. "Maybe not from your perspective, but from mine, she deserves a lot of respect." He looked out his window for a few seconds, then gingerly continued. "I don't want to upset you further, but have you spoken to House since this morning? He's quite concerned about you."

I got up from my seat. "I'm sure he has plenty of female company to console him over my tantrum."

"Audra . . ."

I exited Jim's office without answering.

I went to the NICU when I left Jim's office. I needed to reassure myself of the existence of my daughter and the presence of a connection between us. As I carefully lifted her from her crib, I memorized her few wisps of blond hair, her pale but perfect lips, her long fingers. She nuzzled against me, rooting for my breast, so I sat down and began nursing her. I was so absorbed in the reality of her, I didn't notice the presence behind me.

"She's gained more weight. Being able to nurse is doing her a lot of good."

I turned to smile at Dr. Chase. "Think she could come home anytime soon?"

"I want to keep her on oxygen even though she's breathing on her own, and the incubator is climate-controlled to keep her warm since her body's still not good at regulating her temp. But, if she continues gaining weight this way, you may be able to take her home in another month or so. Her due date wasn't until the middle of March, so I wouldn't normally expect her to leave before then," he answered patiently.

"I'm anxious to spend more time with her."

"I know it's awkward here. If there's anything we can do to make it easier for you, please, let us know."

I thanked him, and he walked out, glancing at us over his shoulder.

I should have expected it, but I was, nonetheless, surprised when I saw Blue Eyes loitering outside the unit as I was leaving. I tried to walk past him.

"You haven't eaten anything all day. Let's go to the cafeteria," he said mildly as he fell into step beside me.

"I'm not hungry," I answered.

He grabbed both of my wrists and backed me against the corridor. "I know you're upset about your mother. I get that. But you can't stop taking care of yourself. Come on." He pulled on my arm.

I sighed and went with him. I could feel him relax a little when I willingly walked beside him. When we got to the cafeteria, I requested a bowl of soup; however, Blue Eyes loaded his tray with a hamburger, fries, several desserts, and a bowl of mixed fruit. We found an out-of-the-way table and unloaded our trays.

"Open," he ordered, shoving a piece of cantaloupe on his fork toward my mouth. When I tried to protest, he just pushed it into my open mouth. "You've talked with Wilson," he continued.

I nodded while chewing.

"So you know there's nothing to be done," he continued while taking a huge bite of his hamburger.

"Wait. Wilson talked to you about Mother?" I asked with visible irritation.

He shook his head. "Hacked into her chart," he muttered with his mouth full of fries.

I grabbed his arm. "How long does she have?"

He speared a piece of apple with his fork and pushed it at my face. I accepted it absently.

"Maybe a month or two."

I dropped my spoon.

"Wilson has her on oxy for pain. Her breathing is still okay, although she will probably need oxygen as things progress. The cancer in her brain is what will kill her."

"How dare you snoop into her medical file and then carelessly tell me things she doesn't want me to know?" I asked angrily.

"What?" he asked in genuine shock. "You wanted to know."

"But she _didn't_ want me to know. You shouldn't have told me."

"Damm you, Tiger. You're impossible to please. I found out what you wanted to know . . ."

"But," I yelled, "it wasn't your information to disclose." I stood up and, for the second time that day, ran through, and then away from, the hospital.

I stopped the truck at a nearby park and called Greg on my cell phone.

"Have some time to talk?" I asked.

"Yeah. Tell me what's going on, Cissy," he said in a subdued voice.

"She has a month, maybe two. She's on meds for pain. She won't try any treatment, although Jim says it's too late, anyway."

"That's the gist of what I got from Dad. Do you want me to come up this weekend?"

"Can you?"

"Certainly, Cissy. I'll call you this evening with my flight info."

"Greg, I don't think . . ." I began.

"Hush," he said. "You're the strongest person I've ever known."

Strength was an illusion. And a curse. I was tired, exhausted with the demands placed on me. I began to embrace the notion of just quitting. Giving up. Letting everyone fend for themselves without me there, constantly holding the safety net.

I was startled out of my morose meditations by the phone. Daddy.

"I assume Greg has told you about your mother," he began in his usual, blunt way.

"Yes. Are you just going to let her stay here until she dies without coming to see her?"

"Watch your tone with me, Audra. I am doing as your mother requested. I only called to see if _you_ needed anything. I know it was a shock to you."

"I need you to come here," I stated flatly.

"Keep me updated, please," he requested as he ended the conversation.

I finally drove back to the townhouse. Mother was dressed in a casual pair of khaki slacks and a navy turtleneck. Her hair was coiffed and her makeup was meticulously applied; she looked like her old self. She was curled on the living room sofa, reading one of the many novels the townhouse's owner had lining the walls in built-in bookcases. She appeared serene and carefree.

"I'm going to make some hot tea. Do you want any?" I offered.

"That would be lovely, Audra," she replied.

I fussed in the kitchen, boiling water and loading a tray with cups and saucers and a plate of some gourmet cookies Jim had left in the pantry. When the tea was ready, I carried the tray into the living room, setting it on the coffee table and handing Mother her cup. She nodded at me. I sat in a chair adjacent to the sofa and watched her sip her tea. She continued reading, her cup balanced on her knee, nibbling occasionally on a cookie. She took no notice of my presence. I finally carried my cup to my bedroom.

I dug out my old sweatpants and my Auburn sweatshirt and suited up to run. I hadn't gone running since the day I ended up in the clinic at PPTH; as I pulled on gloves and a hat against the freezing temperature, I felt the adrenaline start. I took off through the neighborhood. Running seemed the perfect outlet for my pent-up anger. I ran for over two miles, winding through the narrow, curving cul de sacs, until I misstepped and twisted my ankle. I leaned against a tree, rubbing my ankle, when a familiar gentleman came down the steps of the townhouse behind me.

"Audra, are you okay?" David asked.

I smiled up at him, my armpits sweaty, my breathing ragged. "Hi. Is this your townhouse?"

He nodded amiably. "Would you like to come in for a drink?"

I nodded back and limped into his home.

"Did you hurt your ankle?" he asked.

"I think I sprained it."

"Sit down in the living room and I'll bring you an ice pack," he directed.

The living room was dark and masculine with its cocoa-colored walls and chocolate brown leather couches. I sat on one of the couches and stretched my leg out in front of me. David entered with an ice pack. He sat on the floor beside my foot and took it in his hands, running them up over the injured ankle.

"Oh, good. It's not swelling yet," he said as he placed the ice pack against the side of my foot. "Whatever made you go running when it's so icy out?"

"I just learned my mother is dying," I blurted.

His face softened. "Audra, I am so sorry." He hesitated. "She's the woman who was with you at the reception?"

I nodded.

"Are you going to need to take time off?"

"No," I said. "I need to work. I need to stay busy."

"Good. I just read your independent study proposal this morning, and I was looking forward to doing some interesting work together." He looked away. "I need to apologize for the misunderstanding about the online proposal I made – I never intended to use your writing modules without your input. But, you're going to do an excellent job with the program. I'll help you all I can."

"Thank you, David. I appreciate your offer."

He moved to sit beside me. "I lost my mother five years ago. Breast cancer. If you need someone to talk to, I can be a good listener."

His hazel eyes invited my trust. I was angry and needy; I was vulnerable. When he offered to drive me back to the townhouse, I accepted. I also asked him to join us for supper.


	22. Chapter 22: Winning Friends

Chapter Twenty-two: Winning Friends and Influencing People

When we entered the townhouse, the strains of Al Green's "You Ought To Be With Me" punctuated the recognizable laughter of Mother and Jim. I led David into the living room where Mother, Jim, and Blue Eyes were grouped, drinking beer and snacking on a platter of grilled vegetables with a number of dipping sauces. The group quieted when they saw David with me.

"I hope we're not interrupting," I began awkwardly. I could feel Blue Eyes staring at me. "I invited David for supper."

Jim stood, motioning David to an empty chair. "We're having seafood risotto – there's plenty, David. Would you like a beer?"

David nodded. "That would be great."

"If ya'll will excuse me, I need to get a quick shower. I trust I can leave David in your care?" I stared, pointedly, at Blue Eyes.

Mother smiled. "It's nice to see you again, David. I'm glad Audra brought you by."

I abandoned David and went to my bedroom to start the shower. I had no sooner stripped and stepped under the hot spray than I heard movement outside the stall. I squealed when the door slid back and a completely naked Blue Eyes climbed in, forcing me back against the wall.

"What the he!! are you doing?" I yelled.

He ducked his head into the stream of steaming water, wetting his hair, and shook like a drenched dog. I put my hands up to deflect the water he was spewing at me. He reached out, grabbing my shoulders with both of his hands, and kissed me. My head tipped upwards to meet his mouth; he pressed his tall, lean body into me, rubbing his erection against my stomach. His arms slid behind me until his hands gripped my buttocks and pulled them up so that I was on my tiptoes. He shifted, keeping weight on his left leg, and nudged me into the wall.

"Put your arms around me," he whispered. "Hold on to me."

I wrapped them around his neck and felt him lift me up; he lowered me against him until I could feel him pressing into me, easing into me. I lifted my legs and locked my ankles around his waist. He groaned and knocked me, thudding, into the wall as he slid deep into me. He lifted his head, looking down into my eyes, as I felt the water bouncing off his back peppering my face. He developed a rhythm, raising me up, then shoving me down as he pushed up and into me, thumping my ass against the shower stall each time. And with each movement he increased the force, so that I was very quickly emitting a guttural "oomph" each time I hit the wall. I held on tightly, my arms and legs tensed, and I felt the growing tension in the pit of my stomach as I clenched around him.

"Hold . . . on," he began to chant with each thrust.

Ours was not a quiet mating. His chanting grew louder each time, just as my response increased in volume and the pounding on the wall echoed around us. By the time he groaned, "I'm . . . coming," into my ear, I was already occupied with the waves of my own orgasm; my milk let down simultaneously and dripped between us, mingling with the shower spray. As he ceased his thrusting, he loosened his hold on me, and I slid down him, ending up on the floor with his feet and the drain. He leaned against the wall, his leg obviously weak and aching. He left the shower and grabbed my towel to wrap around him as he searched for his pain meds. I remained sitting, letting the cooling water wash over me. I banged my head against the wall a couple of times in frustration. Blue Eyes, wearing his jeans, reached in and turned off the water. He held out a hand to pull me up. When I stood and stepped onto the damp bathmat, he wrapped me in a clean towel. He held me against him for a few minutes, neither of us saying a word. Finally, he kissed the top of my head.

"You have supper guests waiting."

"I need to express milk. I'm leaking."

He led me into my bedroom and climbed onto my bed, pulling me up after him. He settled me between his thighs, my back resting against his chest, and he watched as I, covered only with the towel, used the pump to empty first one and then the other breast.

"Lovely sight," he muttered into my dripping hair.

"Shut up," I answered.

He chuckled. "Wonder if Ph.D. guy is still here?"

"Oh, f#ck."

I found my Lee Roy Parnell t-shirt and jeans and dressed while he donned his own t-shirt. I rubbed my hair with the towel, then pulled it back in a wet, loose, curling ponytail. We walked into the kitchen together; Blue Eyes grabbed two beers, opened them, and handed one to me. I headed into the living room with B.E. on my heels.

The television was turned to a college basketball game. Jim looked up when we entered, frowned slightly, and said, "We didn't wait supper. Leftovers are in the fridge."

I saw the confusion in David's eyes. I walked over to sit beside him, but Blue Eyes stopped me.

"Want me to fix you a plate, too, Tiger?" he asked as he patted my ass.

I gave him my best "eat sh!t" stare and shook my head. I lowered myself to the floor between Mother and David.

"Your brother called," Mother said. "I wrote his flight information on the notepad in the kitchen. He's coming up Friday evening."

"Good. Great," I stuttered.

"Well, it's time for me to find my way home," David said.

I put a hand on his leg to discourage him. "You don't need to go yet."

He leaned towards me and squeezed my shoulder. "It's all right, Audra. I'll be in my office in the morning if you want to stop by and talk about your study proposal." He smiled reassuringly at me.

I walked with him to his car. He touched my cheek. "Audra, are you serious about that doctor? I mean . . ."

"I know he's not the most diplomatic of people, but he's been very good to me."

He got into his car. "I see. Well, drop by in the morning. And thanks for supper."

I watched him drive off and continued standing in the night, alone, wondering exactly what Blue Eyes meant to me and what I meant to him.

I got another beer and sat on the sofa between Mother and Blue Eyes. B.E. had a bowl of risotto he was furiously shoveling into his mouth. I reached over and snagged a shrimp, popping it into my mouth. B.E. stopped and squinted at me. He waved his fork at the kitchen. "Go get a fork. And bring me another beer."

I did as he directed. When I returned, Jim was chastising B.E.

"Did you have to go 'detain' her when she had a guest? You put us all in a difficult position."

"_I_ put you in a difficult position. And I apologize."

I sat back beside Blue Eyes and immediately speared some peppers and a mussel with my fork. Surprisingly, he stopped eating and held out the bowl for me to pilfer.

Jim exchanged glances with Mother, then turned to me. "Are you two dating?"

"We're trying," Blue Eyes answered.

I was amazed and silenced. He wiggled the bowl, so I speared some more veggies and a piece of fish.

"Audra needs to concentrate on her work and her daughter. Gregory seems to understand that," Mother said.

Blue Eyes crinkled his eyes at Mother. "Thanks, Imogene."

"However, Gregory, the episode tonight with Audra – you realize, I guess, we could _hear_ more than was acceptable. You and Audra need to restrain yourselves. Have you two given any more thought to getting married?"

"No!" we both exclaimed.

Mother looked at Jim. "I do think they doth protest too much, James."

Jim, to my amazement, nodded his head.

I stabbed another shrimp in B.E.'s bowl.

"What do you think, Tiger?" Blue Eyes asked. "Think we should give marriage a try?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing would come out. Finally, I croaked, "Why?"

"Regular sex?" he asked.

I closed my eyes. "I think I need to go to bed. Alone. Do you think you could spend one night in your own apartment?" I asked Blue Eyes.

"I don't see why. I'm comfortable here." He grinned insanely as he poked a snow pea into his mouth.

"Oh, he!!. Don't tell me you think we should get married?"

"Hey, that's not what I said. However, your mother is dying – shouldn't we grant her last request?"

I hung my head. "Mother, tell him _that's_ not your last request."

Mother smiled. "I'm saving my last request for my last, uh, request."

Jim high-fived Mother.

"I'm definitely going to bed," I said. When I stood, B.E. stood, too.

"You're not going without me, Tiger," he leered.

I stared at him. "Don't make me call the cops."

I walked to my room. I stripped down; as soon as I slipped between the sheets, Blue Eyes entered the darkened room. I heard him bang into a chair.

"Aw, sh!t. Couldn't you turn on the light for me?"

"You're not supposed to be here. Go home."

He, apparently, divested himself of his clothes before he crawled over me. "Let me sleep for a couple of hours, and we can wake the household with another round."

"Oh, that gives me a reason to let you stay," I answered sarcastically.

He snuggled against me, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Let me know when it's time to pump those plump breasts. I love to watch."

I swatted his ass, but he just scooted closer to me. I fell asleep with his humming in my ear.

I crawled out of bed ahead of the sun. I was aching with the need to relieve my breasts of milk. I donned the same t-shirt and jeans I had worn the previous evening and left for the hospital.

I liked having the early morning alone with Zelda. Granted, the NICU was busy with struggling babies and their medical caretakers, but when I settled in my chair and raised her to my breast, I felt safe and private in our own cocoon. I realized, while I watched her, I had never bought anything for her: no furniture, no clothing, no blankets, or towels. Her existence had been so tenuous, I had never felt comfortable planning for a future with her. I decided to go shopping as soon as I finished my obligations at the university.

As had become our habit, Blue Eyes was waiting for me when I left the NICU.

"Let's go get breakfast."

"Okay," I agreed.

He looked askance at me, as if he thought I'd reconsider and pull a gun on him at any second. I just smiled and walked beside him. He was, I think, too startled to talk.

The hospital cafeteria was just beginning to liven up with morning diners. I got an omelette while he had a plate loaded with pancakes and several forms of breakfast meat. I put both plates on the same tray and carried them to what had become our regular table.

He began eating with his usual gusto. I watched him. Finally, he looked up.

"What?"

I smiled. "Nothing. Listen, it's occurred to me I have nothing for Zelda should she ever be sprung from here. I thought I'd go baby shopping this afternoon. Would you like to come?"

He thought as he chewed. "I have a patient. About what time?"

"I have to get some work done at the university, and then I need to come back to nurse her again. I should be finished with all of that around three?"

He considered as he added a bite of my omelette to what was already in his mouth. "Yeah, I can probably do that. Should I meet you at the NICU then?"

"That would be good."

"Ph.D. guy's not going with us, is he?"

"Not unless you think I should invite him. He might spring for a box of diapers."

"You can afford all the diapers she'll need," he retorted.

I grabbed a piece of bacon from his plate and patted his head as I scurried out of the cafeteria and headed for the university.

Not surprisingly, word had reached my two colleagues of my mother's illness. Cindy was sweetly solicitous and offered me a cup of hot tea as soon as I entered my office. Troy moved around aimlessly, waiting, I decided, for me to talk to him. I called him into my office.

"Have you updated the online classes?" I asked.

"Of course, Ms. Jeffrey. I graded their exercises and posted today's writing module."

"Have we had anyone using the computers in the conference room?" I asked. Part of our mission was to provide assistance for those enrolled in developmental English classes.

"Yes. I typed the info from the sign-in sheets into the database. Cindy showed me." He smiled his timid smile. He was pleased with himself.

"Troy, you're doing even more than I had hoped. Are you having time to keep up with your own classes?"

"Yes, Ms. Jeffrey. I have two good classes this semester: Feminist Composition Theory with Dr. Hillman and Writing the Disaster with Dr. Mebane."

"What books are you reading in Dr. Mebane's class?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

" Frederick Douglas, Margaret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut . . ."

I nodded. "Sounds like a good class."

"Yes," Troy nodded. "He knows I'm working for you, so he pays me a lot of attention. He's interested in your program."

"I just bet he is. Do me a favor, Troy, and don't give Dr. Mebane any info about our classes, okay? No numbers."

He looked at me quizzically. "Why . . ."

"I want to wait until the semester finishes before we analyze our class numbers and the frequency of students seeking tutoring. I think everyone will be surprised with our success, and I'd prefer we keep the numbers to ourselves." I was still mistrustful of David.

Troy nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, Ms. Jeffrey. We will keep the news for ourselves. But you will not be unhappy with our progress."

I believed him. I wasn't sure if he was motivated by academic zeal or by a possible fondness for me, but it didn't matter in the end.

Cindy apologetically informed me of a series of lectures I was to begin on Friday, explaining our services to a variety of classes. I made a note in my calendar to dress professionally that day. I skipped lunch to catch up with my paperwork and only stopped by Dr. Mebane's office as I was leaving for the hospital.

"Audra, come in," he said quietly, not rising from his desk.

I perched on the only empty chair; every other chair was covered with books. "David, I wanted to apologize about last night . . ."

He waved his hand dismissively. "There's no need, Audra. I know you're dealing with some emotional issues with your daughter still in the hospital and, now, your mother's illness. We don't always express our grief in socially acceptable ways."

Did he just insult me? I furrowed my forehead, trying to work it out, but he continued talking.

"I've made a list of novels you might want to peruse for our summer project. I've been giving it some thought, and these seem particularly relative to the play and the playwright you've chosen."

I glanced cursorily at the list he gave me, noting the authors were all American from the twentieth century or later. His area, of course. Again, I had an uneasy feeling about the project.

"Thank you, David, and I'll give these novels my attention. If you don't mind, I must hurry on to the hospital to take care of Zelda."

"Of course. I completely understand. Will you be able to speak to the English classes on Friday? We have you scheduled for a full day."

As I stood, I smiled and said, "Of course, David. They are on my calendar in red."

When I got to the NICU, Blue Eyes was waiting on me. He was holding Zelda, rocking her and singing "Only the Good Die Young."

"Move over, Daddy," I teased.

He waited while I freed my breast, then placed Zelda in my arms with her little mouth aimed at my nipple. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. I laughed. Zelda, of course, latched right on and started nursing.

"Where are we going on our baby stuff hunt?"

"There's a consignment store near the university I like," I answered.

"Used stuff? Come on, Zelda needs new stuff. Not old, crummy, discarded crap."

"But the used stuff is cheaper," I objected.

"Oh he!!, Lady Rockefeller, I'll buy her a crib. Where are you going to put it?"

"In my bedroom. I'm a little overcrowded with Jim and Mother."

"We can't have Zelda sleeping in the room with us. We'll keep her up when we have sex. _You_ are excessively noisy, you know."

"_I'm _noisy? You sound like you're in a boxing match and losing miserably." I moved Zelda to the other breast. "We can put her upstairs in the office, I guess."

"Good. Let Fidel take care of her night feedings."

I snorted. "Mother wouldn't get up at night for anyone even if she weren't dying."

Zelda smacked her lips. She was full and began to sleepily close her eyes. Blue Eyes took her, kissed her forehead, and put her back inside her incubator.

"Come on, Rocky, let's go buy some furniture."

While we drove to the mall, I called Mother and asked her to tell Jim I would take care of supper. Mother's voice was raspy, and she sounded tired.

Blue Eyes went overboard in the department store. He bought Zelda a crib with all the trimmings, several tiny gowns and sleepers, and a selection of onesies that read: My Mom's a Hottie; I Was in Her First; Poop is a Palindrome; and I'll Try to be Nicer if You'll Try to be Smarter. We were giggling like kids by the time we left the store, the baby clothes in a large bag and the furniture scheduled to be delivered the next day. On the way home, I had Blue Eyes stop at my favorite deli where I bought an assortment of meats, cheeses and breads. I also bought kalamata olives and containers of hummus and tzatziki. Blue Eyes kept his nose turned up as I made my selections.

"You'll like tzatziki. He!!, you eat everything."

"No I don't," he objected. "I'm very picky."

I rolled my eyes. "Then grab a bag of chips."

He grabbed a couple of bags and grinned evilly as he added them to the pile of food.

"You are such a kid," I teased.

He meticulously chose a bottle of wine. I raised my eyebrows. "It's for you. To get you in the mood."

"In the mood for what? You damm near broke down the shower stall last night. What do you have planned for this evening? On the kitchen counter so everyone can see?"

"Hmmm. You're giving me ideas," he smirked.

We were conspiratorial as we carried our goodies into the townhouse. I wanted to show the onesies to Mother, hoping she'd at least be amused, but she wasn't in the living room. I called her and finally found her in her bedroom, crumpled in the floor.

"House!" I screamed.

While he climbed the stairs, I moved her onto her back and checked her breathing. It was shallow and faint, but she was alive.

"Call 911," Blue Eyes ordered me as he bent over her. "Then call PPTH and have them page Wilson. Tell him to meet us in the ER."


	23. Chapter 23: Inevitability

Chapter Twenty-three: Inevitability

The EMTs allowed Blue Eyes to ride in the ambulance with Mother, but I had to take his car to the emergency room. I had managed to speak with Jim, and he met the ambulance when it got to the ER. I wanted to call Daddy and Greg, but I elected to wait until I knew how she was.

Blue Eyes caught me as I entered the hospital, pulling me away from the patient area and hissing at me in a concerned whisper. "Her oxygen level is not good, but she's okay. She's conscious."

"Good. I'll go see her."

He grabbed my wrist and held me where I was. "Listen, Tiger, she's going to be admitted. Why don't you wait until she's settled in a room?"

I looked deeply into his bright eyes. "You're not telling me something. What is it?"

He looked at his feet, avoiding my gaze but still holding tightly to my arm. "She isn't ready to see you yet."

"Isn't ready to see me?" I exclaimed. "That's just horsesh!t. Let me see her." I tried to pull away from him, but he wasn't relaxing his hold at all.

"When she's in her own room, she'll be more in the mood to see you. You know Hannibal, she'll have a whole list of things for you to fetch her."

"She waiting on a mani-pedi before she entertains visitors?" I asked sarcastically. Something about his demeanor worried me. "Fess up, puddin'."

He continued studying his own footwear. "She's asked that no one be allowed in with her. Particularly you."

I shifted my weight and considered my response. "You know she's crazy. Surely Jim isn't agreeing to keep me away?"

"He has to do as she requests."

I kicked him in his good shin, and he grabbed it, letting go of my arm. I made my way through the maze of curtains and patients until I found her.

She was lying, regally, on a bed with numerous monitors attached to her, all of them spitting out information. Her eyes were closed until she heard me next to her.

"What are you doing here, Audra? I told Gregory and James . . . "

"I don't give a flying f#ck what you told either of them," I said angrily. "You fall out in _my_ house, you're going to have to put up with _my_ presence in the hospital. Get used to it."

She smiled weakly. Pale and tiny, she had an oxygen mask she pulled back over her nose, effectively ending any conversation between the two of us. I stood watching her, my fists clenched. I wanted to strangle her oxygen-impaired neck.

Jim coughed behind me. I snapped around like I had been caught trespassing.

"Sorry," I muttered half-heartedly. "You know I couldn't stay away."

He nodded while watching Mother. "She has bacterial pneumonia. We're going to admit her and give her intravenous antibiotics."

Blue Eyes limped through the curtains, gave me an evil stare, and asked Jim, "What drugs are you going to use?"

"We're going to start her on intravenous levofloxacin and add clarithromycin if we need to," Jim said soberly.

Blue Eyes nodded.

"We'll keep her on oxygen and get a respiratory therapist to give her breathing treatments, but . . . " Jim's expression was grave.

"She's not going to leave here, is she?" I asked in a whisper.

"Audra, you might want to call your father. And Greg," Jim advised. In his indirect way, he had answered my question.

"Okay," I answered. I looked at Blue Eyes. "I'm sorry about your ankle."

"I should have seen it coming," he replied.

"Let me step outside and make some phone calls," I told them. I squeezed Mother's hand before I left.

I had to leave a message for Greg asking him to move up his visit. Daddy, however, answered my call.

"Mama's been hospitalized with pneumonia."

He paused. I could hear him taking a deep breath. "I guess that was to be expected."

The hand not holding the phone was clenched and shaking. "You need to get up here. She's not going to live through this."

"You know your mother. She's already made all of her funeral arrangements."

I felt the blood rush to my face. Blue Eyes walked up behind me and placed his hands gently on my shoulders just as I tensed them. "Funeral arrangements? _That's_ what you're worried about? Your _wife_ is dying, and your f#cking first concern is her choice of coffin?"

"Let me," Blue Eyes whispered. He lifted the phone out of my dumbfounded hand. "Mr. Jeffrey. I am Dr. Greg House. I'm a friend of Audra's and one of your wife's doctors. You need to know your wife is not likely to live long enough to leave the hospital." He waited while my father growled at him. "Sir, I really don't care whether you come to see Imogene or not. However, I do care about Audra. She's had enough to handle, with Zelda still in the hospital while she manages a new job, without playing nursemaid for _your_ wife. The _very least_ you can do is come up here and take responsibility for _your_ wife." He paused again. "Let me give you my personal number where you can have me paged at any time. I'll expect you to let me know of your flight arrangements." He then recited his cell and pager numbers to Daddy. His tone was brusque. Assertive. Unapproachable.

"Daniel," I said.

He closed my phone and slipped it into his pocket. "What?"

"His name is Daniel. Dan. Danny Boy."

He put his hands back on my shoulders and massaged them. All of my energy was focused on not crying. Neither she nor my father was worth crying over.

"I need to go feed Zelda. Blue Eyes," I whispered in my softest voice, "you didn't have to . . ."

"Shut up," he said. "I'll go with you to feed Zelda."

We walked, silent but together, to the NICU. Blue Eyes held Zelda while I situated myself. As I nursed her, he sat quietly beside me.

"I still need to get a car seat for her," I said.

"There's time."

"He won't come here. He's just waiting for her to die."

"Greg will come."

"Yeah," I agreed. "My family is straight out of Faulkner."

He squeezed my hand. "I was thinking Bram Stoker."

By the time Zelda was fed and contentedly sleeping, Mother had been moved to her room. She was sleeping when I checked on her. I was torn between the urge to stay with her and the need to go home and sleep. Blue Eyes walked in on me watching her.

"Greg called," he said. He handed me back my phone. "His flight will get in around eleven tomorrow morning. Can you pick him up?"

"Yeah. I need to go by my office early. Will she sleep all night?"

"I'm sure Wilson's drugged her. Let's go home."

"My truck is here from this afternoon."

"Leave it. I'll bring you back in the morning to feed Zelda."

I looked deep into his lovely eyes. I knew he hated getting up early. "You don't need to do that."

"I know. I'm not a nice guy very often. Accept my offer." He wrapped his arm around me and steered me into the hall.

He was right. I was exhausted. I leaned into him and allowed myself to, briefly, rely on someone else.

Blue Eyes was, surreptitiously, moving himself into my townhouse, a backpack of clothes one day followed by a backpack of books the next. When we reached the townhouse, I saw the things he had bought for Zelda, and I nearly cried. I grabbed the onesies and clutched them to my breasts. He watched me struggle with my emotions; finally, he took me by the shoulders and put me to bed. He curled around me, holding me and the onesies, until I drifted off. I was so soundly asleep I didn't realize he was out of bed until he sat beside me and shook me.

"Tiger," he whispered. "Wilson called. We need to get back to the hospital."

"What?" I sat up, feeling for him in the dark.

"I'm here," he said, easing me into his embrace. "I'll turn on the lights and get your clothes."

"She's dying."

He squeezed me before he snapped on the bedside light. He brought me my jeans and t-shirt and then threw on his own clothes. I dressed in a daze. I was robotic. I allowed him to direct me to the car and chauffeur me back to the hospital. Jim met us outside Mother's room.

"Audra," Jim said quietly, "Imogene signed a DNR. You understand, right?"

I nodded absently. I was looking past him and into the room. I couldn't see her chest moving; I was afraid she had already stopped breathing. "Is she . . ."

"Her breathing is ragged, Audra. Go on in," Jim said.

I walked to her bed. She was so pale her skin was translucent. Her eyes were closed. Jim had freed her of the heart monitor, so the room was quiet. I could hear the faint sounds of her labored breathing. I watched as a breath caught and seemed to hover just out of her reach. After an agonizing few seconds, she exhaled. I couldn't move. I was glued to her bedside, waiting for her to draw that last breath. Every muscle in my body was rigid, and the tears, at last, flowed down my cheeks. Mercifully, she only managed a few more breaths before she stopped. She just didn't inhale again. I waited, holding my own breath, but she never inhaled. The lack of sound was overpowering. I raised my hand to cover my mouth. I waited. I watched. Blue Eyes put his left hand on my waist while Jim hovered in the doorway.

"Tiger," B.E. whispered.

I couldn't talk. I leaned my head towards him. He lifted his hand to encircle my head, grazing my neck; he pulled me against his chest. I closed my eyes as I rubbed my wet cheeks on his t-shirt, facing him full-on and wrapping my arms around his middle. He rested his bristled cheek atop my head. I took a deep breath and shoved him back.

"I'm going to go feed Zelda," I whispered hoarsely.

"I'll go with you."

"No," I said, brushing by him and Jim. "I need some time alone."

I hurried to find Zelda. I was overwhelmed with hatred: hatred for my mother for leaving me her last moments of life as her legacy; hatred for my father for, again, handing me a mess and expecting me to clean it up for him; and hatred for the isolation which consumed me. Lifting Zelda to my breast, knowing she drew sustenance from me and me alone, helped ease the gall of my bitterness. She was mine. She belonged to me. And I would never burden her the way I had been burdened. Never.

Blue Eyes, his patience gone, entered the NICU and took a sleeping Zelda from me. He kneeled on his good leg in front of me.

"Tiger, I'm going to give you a shot of ativan. Then you can get some sleep. I'll pick Greg up."

"No shot," I uttered in a monotone. "I want to meet Greg. Oh my god, I need to call him."

"It's okay. Wilson called him. I called good old Dan, who's making the arrangements to have Imogene moved back to Alabama." He was talking quietly and slowly, as to a child.

"Then Greg shouldn't come here. He needs to go home."

"Tiger, Greg wants to come be with you. He wants you to fly to Alabama with him."

"I can't leave Zelda."

"Listen, let me give you this shot. Then you can get some sleep and argue with Greg once he's here."

"No shot."

He was, understandably, losing his compassionate composure. He stood, leaning heavily on his cane, and surveyed me. He sighed, bent down towards me, and grabbed me, throwing me over his shoulder as he stood.

"I am going to do my best to get you to the car. If you struggle or wiggle _at all_, I will throw your ass on the ground, where I will proceed to strip you, in public, so I can inject this lovely drug into you. So, prove that doctoral brain of yours is working and begin cooperating."

"I'll go home with you if you promise not to drug me."

He shifted me on his shoulder while keeping his left arm slung across my ass. "No deal. You have to get some sleep. I can always admit you. Have you in restraints."

"Is everything about sex?"

He smacked my ass, but I could feel him beginning to chuckle. "Where do you want to sleep? Home or here?"

"Home. But don't overdo the ativan, please?"

"See how tired you are, Tiger? You said 'please.'"

"You ready to put me down yet?" I said to his back.

"Just trying to cop a feel."

"I'll start wiggling," I warned.

"Sh!t. You're no fun." He set me on my feet. I knew, by the way his eyes clouded over, my face was red from crying. He took my hand and we walked to his car.

Once at the townhouse, I got into bed and slept with the aid of his injection. He stayed with me, sending Jim to the airport to retrieve Greg. I didn't see Greg until after he had gone by the hospital to take care of the paperwork involved in having Mother flown home. When I did open my eyes to gaze into the brown eyes of my brother, parked beside my bed, I automatically reached out and hugged him.

"It's okay, Cissy," he said into my hair. "Everything's taken care of. We're flying to Huntsville tomorrow morning. The biped even called the university."

"Oh, he!!," I muttered. I had forgotten about my job.

"It's taken care of. You're on medical leave. Zelda has enough milk socked away that you could be absent a month. Everything's handled."

I was in a state of suspended animation. I moved, I talked, I functioned, but none of it punctured my vale of impenetrability. Greg helped me pack. He brought me food. He interceded with Jim and Blue Eyes and Daddy. He convinced me to accept another ativan shot so I could sleep enough to make the morning flight. I was lying in a bubble bath, beginning to dose off, when Blue Eyes somehow circumvented Greg's watchdog position and entered my haven. He sat on the edge of the tub.

"Want me to go with you?" he asked.

I was dulled by the drugs, but his question shocked me nonetheless.

"Why?"

He shrugged and looked at the floor. "I thought you might need some support. Or a bodyguard."

"You would, willingly, go to Alabama for Mother's funeral?" I asked stupidly.

"Yes, Tiger, I would."

"Your patients . . ."

"I'm entitled to time off. Cuddy's approved it."

I was having difficulty comprehending. "You've already asked Dr. Cuddy?"

"Yes, Sleeping Beauty. I'm cleared to accompany you below the Mason Dixon Line. Besides, I need to see your trailer park for myself. Is it tornado season?"

He helped me from the tub and into bed. I was in a drug-induced haze, so as he held me and began to touch and caress my body, I was slow to react. I rolled on my back to make his efforts easier. He licked and kissed my breasts as he slid his fingers between my legs. I moved to protest, but he quieted me with a tender kiss. I wasn't able to accept his efforts to please me; I wanted and needed a connection, a joining.

"Please," I whispered, tears choking my voice, "please, be inside me."

He moved over me, sliding easily into place. Slowly, he rocked into me with gentle undulations, keeping his arousal in check as my sorrow and my desire mingled and conjoined to create an aching void only he could fill. Tears ran, unbidden, down my face as I responded to his movements; as he, slowly, brought me closer to a sexual release, he also brought me closer to an emotional release. He continued to use restraint, but my moans became whimpers and, eventually, entreaties for relief. Nuzzling my damp face, he gradually increased his thrusts, sending me into a series of orgasms, one coming on top of the other with no pause in between. He whispered a soothing, "Shhh," in my ear until his hold on his own physiology slipped. I was clenched so tightly around him, every movement sent me on another cascade of shuddering contractions; his thrusts became more intense, punctuated with guttural grunts. As his own contractions finally eased, he gathered my quivering body onto his chest and held me there, shivering and crying, until the ativan took hold.


	24. Chapter 24: Welcome Home

Chapter Twenty-four: Welcome Home

Jim was kind enough to drive Greg, Blue Eyes, and me to the airport. Greg spent the ride trying his best to persuade Blue Eyes to stay in Princeton.

"Don't you have patients to heal, biped?" he asked. "Or, at the very least, shouldn't you keep an eye on your _daughter_?"

"Greg," I snapped. "Stop it."

"Oh, Cissy, don't tell me you actually want him to come along?"

Blue Eyes glared at Greg. "What's wrong, _Greg_? Do you southerners deep fry and eat Yankees?"

"Always that possibility, biped."

I turned to B.E. and whispered, "You really don't need to go, you know. I'll only stay long enough to get through the funeral. I'll be fine." I smiled my best, fake smile.

"Tiger, is there a reason you don't want me to come?"

"The funeral will be a circus. Loons from every county. You might be bored."

"Or," he interjected, "I might be entertained."

I cringed.

My father's sister, Mary Dell, met our plane in Huntsville. Mary Dell was two years older than Daddy, a crystallographer for NASA, and a lesbian with a thirty-year-old comic book store owner as her live-in. I had tried to prepare Blue Eyes, but he didn't take me seriously.

Mary Dell hugged me and Greg. She stepped back to observe Blue Eyes.

"Mary Dell, this is my, well, my friend, Dr. Gregory House. And this is my aunt, Mary Dell Jeffrey," I nervously introduced them.

Greg leaned back in his wheelchair and grinned mischievously.

"Welcome to Alabama, Gregory," Mary Dell said politely as she extended a firm hand. Blue Eyes reluctantly shook it. "Audra," she said, turning to me, "I'm so sorry about your ordeal with your mother. Did you bring the baby?"

Oh, sh!t. "She's not big enough or stable enough to leave the NICU yet."

"Gregory," Mary Dell directed, "if you and Greg could commandeer the bags, I'll pull up my car. Walk with me, Audra."

I turned to watch the two cripples struggling at the luggage carousel; in Mary Dell's world, men did the hard labor regardless of their talents. I winked at Blue Eyes as I followed my aunt outside to her 2007 Lexus LX470.

"New car?" I asked.

"We needed something to haul all of Dinah's stuff around. We thought we'd eat supper at our house tonight. Your dad will meet us there," she prattled as she unlocked the vehicle and shifted into drive.

"But we're staying at Daddy's, right?"

"Does your father know you've brought a gentleman home with you?" she quizzed me.

I felt the familiar uncomfortable tensing of my colon. "He didn't care to have much conversation with me. Is there a problem?"

"Honey, I'm fine with anything you do. But you know how your dad is." Her words hung ominously in the air as she stopped the car outside the flight terminal.

The men had found a porter to assist them. After they loaded the SUV, Greg grabbed Blue Eyes' arm and motioned for him to take the backseat with him, leaving me to ride shotgun. For mid January, it was cold and dry with gray, low lying clouds. There was no snow to hide the red clay that comprised the cotton fields. Mary Dell drove us through the rural area and into the city of Huntsville; she had a sprawling home on Monsanto Mountain.

"Dinah is bringing home barbecue for supper. Your friend does eat pork?" Mary Dell asked during the drive.

"He eats everything," I replied.

"Danny will come by when he finishes at the funeral home and has Imogene taken care of. If everything is copacetic with him, then you can stay at his house, or one of you might want to stay with us."

"By 'one of you,' do you mean Blue Eyes?" I asked her quietly.

She nodded. "How quaint. You have a nickname for him."

"What are the arrangements? For Mother?"

"Visitation tomorrow night at Mason's Funeral Home, six till eight. Graveside services Sunday at one. Reverend Miller is officiating."

"Did Dad run an obituary?"

"Of course. Imogene already had everything planned out. Picked out her own casket. Pewter. She wanted only white flowers at the visitation, and the casket covered in white lilies at the graveside. She was always very particular."

"Open casket?"

Mary Dell barely smiled. "Not for your mother. She didn't want gawkers. She had a portrait made from one of her wedding photos; Danny had it enlarged and framed for display."

The cramping in my colon intensified.

My aunt parked her car in the circular driveway before the front doors. While Blue Eyes helped Greg unload his wheelchair, I grabbed two of the bags. Dinah, with her short, black hair and clean, pointed face, bounded down past me and gathered up the remaining luggage, jostling Greg familiarly.

"Hey, Greg. 'Bout time you came back down here. The pool table awaits," she gaily called. She nodded at Blue Eyes, her hands full. "Hi. I'm Dinah Blizzard."

Blue Eyes observed her perky demeanor and her perky young body. "I'm Greg House."

"Cool. Two Gregs. Should be confusing. I hope you shoot pool, too, Greg House," Dinah chirped as she easily swung the three bags into the house.

Blue Eyes leaned over to me and said, "Blizzard?"

I shrugged.

Greg muttered, "Damned steps," and wheeled around the side of the house to the kitchen door.

I gestured to the front of the house. "Dinah is Mary Dell's significant other."

"Your aunt is what, in her mid-sixties? And she can score a chick like that? Sweet."

"Oh, he!!," I muttered and walked ahead of him into the house.

Mary Dell was opening containers of barbecue pork and cole slaw in the expansive kitchen while Dinah bounced around, grabbing bags of buns and chips, glasses and bottles of soda. Greg rolled around Dinah, trying to trip her.

"Gregory Daniel Jeffrey," Dinah finally huffed in her exasperation, "if you don't get out of my way I'm going to put you up on blocks."

"Quit threatening the crip, and tell me what new comics you have," Greg complained. He rolled over to the table.

Blue Eyes took the buns and the chips from Dinah. He leaned close to her ear. "You really a dyke – with that ass?"

Dinah laughed. "Oh, Cissy, you found a clever one."

Mary Dell started assembling the sandwiches: bun, pork, cole slaw, hot sauce, top of the bun. As fast as she made them, she passed them to the plates. "Have a seat, Gregory. I have beer, wine, and hard liquor in the pantry. What can I get you?"

Greg rolled to the refrigerator. "Beer okay, b.p.?"

"Sure," Blue Eyes answered, taking the top off his sandwich and staring. He motioned to me. "Who puts cole slaw on a pork sandwich? And what kind of slaw is this – where's the dressing?"

I laughed. "The slaw is nothing but cabbage with a sugar and vinegar dressing. Just eat it the way Mary Dell made it. Go on. It's good."

Greg handed him a beer. "If you don't eat it, b.p., I will."

B.E. shrugged and took a bite, chewing gamely. I put a handful of chips on his plate and turned to see what else was needed. Mary Dell was uncorking a bottle of Riesling.

"I'll take a glass when I get back. Where did you put my bag, Dinah?"

She motioned towards the guest room. I slipped away to express milk for Zelda. I left the door cracked and listened to the badinage between the two men and the two women. Dinah had Greg and Blue Eyes hypnotized with the list of new comics and the collectible comics she had. I could picture money flying out of B.E.'s bank account. I smiled as I pumped out the milk.

When I slipped the container of breast milk into the refrigerator to freeze later, Mary Dell wrinkled her nose in a distasteful way.

"That's right, Mary Dell," I said. "Don't use the breast milk to whiten your coffee."

"Thanks for the warning, dear," she replied sarcastically.

I noticed the crusts from at least two buns on B.E.'s plate. "Like that barbecue, did you?" I asked as I sat beside him and pulled a sandwich toward me.

"That cole slaw is an acquired taste. Don't you people have mayonnaise down here? You know, the white stuff you spread on sandwiches and mix with herbs to create salad dressings?"

"Mayonnaise," Greg said, hitting his forehead with his palm. "Why didn't I think of mixing cabbage with mayonnaise? That sounds just yummy."

Dinah, laughing, brought me a glass of wine. "Okay, Cissy, I saw the breast milk. Does that mean there's really a baby, somewhere?"

I nodded, my mouth full of hickory-smoked pork.

"Miniature baby," Blue Eyes said while sipping on his third beer.

Mary Dell was picking at a serving of the pork with her fingers and turned her trained gaze on Dinah, who was eying me enviously.

"How exciting, having your own daughter to raise and f#ck up," she sighed.

"Dinah's hearing her biological clock," Mary Dell said.

"Yeah, I can't convince Mary Dell to let me have a baby," Dinah complained.

Blue Eyes leaned across the table to get Dinah's attention. "Don't let me shock you, but Mary Dell's not the one who can get you pregnant."

"Are you offering to help her out?" I asked him.

He stretched back in his chair, extended his arms, and said, "Well . . . "

I turned to Dinah. "He's just interested in the challenge of converting you from the all girls' team."

"I thought he was hoping Mary Dell would join in for a threesome," Greg interjected.

Dinah slapped Greg on the arm. "Let's leave the dishes till later and shoot some pool." She looked at Blue Eyes. "You want to play, too, Greg House?"

Blue Eyes looked to me for assistance.

"Hey, I don't know if you're good enough to play with the big dogs."

He took my words as a challenge. "Dinah," he said, "lead the way."

They headed to a rec room at the back of the house. I picked up my sandwich and wine. "Come on, Mary Dell. Let's go watch."

Mary Dell guiltily abandoned the dishes, bringing her own wine glass and the half empty bottle of wine with her. When we entered the game room, I saw Dinah holding out her own pool cue for Blue Eyes to admire. The end of her cue was decorated with the same flames as Blue Eyes' cane.

I smiled and whispered to B.E., "Never shoot pool with a woman with flames on her cue."

Dinah laughed freely. "And don't forget my name," she chortled as she rolled it in her hands and showed her name, Dinah, painted in yellow down the shaft.

"Blue Eyes, be very afraid," I warned.

Blue Eyes was fascinated with Dinah's pool cue. He touched it reverently. "Do you think I could get my name painted like that on my cane?" he asked the young woman.

"Sure, man. I can hook you up," Dinah answered.

Our laughter was interrupted by Daddy's entrance. He was pale and sad. He greeted everyone and waited while I introduced him to Blue Eyes, shaking B.E.'s hand grimly but politely. Then he handed an envelope to me.

"A huge pot of Easter lilies came to the funeral home. From Greg's old doctor. It had this note for you," he explained.

My hands began to tremble as I opened it.

"My old doctor?" Greg asked. "Dr. Michaels?"

Blue Eyes moved to stand behind me as I unfolded the card:

"Dear Audra,

I'm sorry for your loss. I hope we'll be able to meet up with each other during the time you'll be home. I'd love to see you. Again.

Aaron."

B.E. took the note out of my hands and slipped it into his shirt pocked. He squeezed my waist.

"What's wrong, Cissy?" Greg asked. "The old doc asking you out again?"

The fear and dread of seeing Aaron, my rapist, left me in a cold sweat. I pushed the possibilities to the back of my mind and concentrated on my father.

"Do you want a barbecue sandwich?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry. But, Audra, I will need your help tomorrow. Your mother's sisters and sister-in-law are holding a reception at our house before the visitation. I was hoping you'd come and supervise."

I took my father's hand. "I'll do anything I can to help, Daddy. We were discussing where each of us would spend the night . . ."

He turned his icy, gray stare on Blue Eyes. "Dr. House, I won't pretend to understand, much less condone, your relationship with my daughter; however, I haven't the time nor the energy to enter a debate with you. I would like for Audra to stay at her home, and if that means you'll be staying with her, then I hope you will honor me enough to keep things as civil and respectful as possible."

The room was deafening in its silence. My father was not one to say much, and he was definitely not a speech maker; I could only pray Blue Eyes would somehow recognize Daddy's speech for the olive branch it was. I could feel B.E.'s lean physique pressed into my back, his hand still resting on my waist. I couldn't feel his breaths and wondered if he was holding them like the rest of us.

Finally, he moved slightly and spoke. "I'm aware this is a difficult time for you, Dan, but my concern is Audra. I don't want to make things more unpleasant for you, but I do intend to stay with her."

I knew his voiced devotion to me stemmed solely from the implied threat of Aaron's, but I didn't really care. I wasn't accustomed to having anyone, especially a male, express loyalty or protectiveness towards me. I leaned back into him, resting my shoulders against his chest.

Daddy nodded. "I know it's late. I'm going to head on back to Mooresville. Do you want to ride with me?"

Mary Dell stepped forward. "Dan, Dinah and I thought we'd let the kids borrow the SUV while they're here. They can follow you home."

Blue Eyes said, "Thanks, Mary Dell. Greg, why don't you ride with your father, and Audra and I will meet you there?"

Greg opened his mouth to object, but I caught his eye and shook my head, so he said, "Good idea, b.p. Don't you want to grab some sandwiches before we leave, Dad?"

Daddy declined the food; he and Greg loaded into Greg's bags into Daddy's truck and took off. Blue Eyes and I gathered our luggage and stowed it in her SUV.

"Are you sure you can spare your car?" I asked Mary Dell.

"Of course, Audra. We have Dinah's Corolla and the jeep if we need a spare vehicle. Honey, I know your dad can be difficult, but he's having a hard time dealing with Imogene's death. Try to be patient with him."

Blue Eyes and I thanked Mary Dell and Dinah. We pointed the SUV down the mountain and towards Mooresville. B. E. was silent until we were heading through the town. "This Aaron," he finally started, "is he likely to show up at the visitation or the funeral?"

I turned my head and stared out the window. "How can I predict what he will do? I never would have thought he'd rape me."

"What do you want to do? Call the police?"

"No," I said. "I just want to get through these two days and head back to Princeton and Zelda. Hopefully, he won't show up."

"What does he look like?"

I kept my head turned away from B.E. "Average height and weight, dark hair with some gray, green eyes. No facial hair when I knew him."

"If he shows up, you'll let me know immediately, right?"

"Of course. But I don't think he has the balls to confront me in person. I think, or I hope, he'll be happy just to intimidate by flowers."

Blue Eyes nodded in agreement, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. I instructed Blue Eyes to park the SUV in the driveway of my childhood home. The colonial, white clapboard house was bright with its indoor lights blazing.

"This ain't no damn trailer park," Blue Eyes said.

"Don't worry, puddin', I'll take you to a trailer park," I laughed.

Greg was rolling around in the living room hunting for liquor when we entered. "Cissy," he called, "see if Dad's got any brandy hidden over the wet bar."

"Where is Dad?" I asked as I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Germain-Robin XO. "Oooh, paydirt," I murmured. I lifted three snifters from the rack of cocktail glasses and poured healthy servings of cognac into each. Greg was the first to take a glass and sample it.

"Excellent," Greg raved.

Blue Eyes sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and took the cognac I proffered. Daddy walked in from the kitchen and handed me a section of the newspaper.

"Her obituary is in this section," he told me solemnly. "I'm going on to bed. Dr. House, the spare rooms are upstairs; I hope that won't be too much of an inconvenience for you."

"Thank you, Dan. I'll be fine," B.E. answered.

I kissed Daddy on the cheek and hugged him as he walked down the hall to his room. I took my cognac and the newspaper and sat on the floor at B.E.'s feet.

"What are you looking for?" B.E. asked when he saw me scanning the paper.

"I want to read her obit," I told him. I found it and read it word-for-word. I sighed and looked up at Blue Eyes. "For whatever reason, it doesn't mention Zelda. That's a good thing."

Greg rolled over to us. "Gee, Cissy, I would think you'd be really pissed your daughter was left out. We can have it corrected in tomorrow's paper if you want."

"No. Leave it this way," Blue Eyes said brusquely.

"Mother would have preferred no one know she had an illegitimate granddaughter," I told Greg, trying to allay his curiosity.

Blue Eyes went to the wet bar and poured himself more cognac. He then observed the numerous family pictures on the walls.

"Is this you?" he asked me. "The little girl with the platinum hair?"

"Yeah, Blue Eyes, my hair was white when I was young. My cousins used to call me a 'cotton picker' because it was so light."

"Will I get to meet these cousins?" he asked.

Greg snorted. "Mother's whole family will be here tomorrow before the visitation. The redneck brigade en masse. Have you warned the biped?"

I laughed.

Blue Eyes stopped his tour around the room. "What? Will I be facing sawed-off shotguns?"

"More like guys with wads of chewing tobacco in their cheeks," I answered, "and women with hair dyed colors never found in nature."

"Ahhh, a costume party," Blue Eyes smiled.

"Excellent description," Greg agreed. "A southern wake is nothing more than a chance to dress up, eat, and diss the dead."


	25. Chapter 25: Feeding the Multitudes

Chapter Twenty-five: Feeding the Multitudes

I left Greg and Blue Eyes sitting up, watching Daddy's John Wayne dvds and drinking cognac. I gave Blue Eyes detailed directions to my bedroom.

Seeing my old bedroom decorated with the remnants of my youth made my throat _and _my colon constrict. I turned on the overhead light, which threw shadows across the preserved piles of ancient phonograph albums and worn paperback novels. Nothing had been touched since I had moved away in my twenties. The same baby-blue bedspread covered the double bed. I smiled as I ran my hand over the stiff polyester fabric. I put on my Janis Joplin t-shirt and my gray sweatpants and slipped between the starched sheets. I left the lights on and closed my eyes, listening to the night-time sounds of the small town. Blue Eyes finally climbed upstairs, thumping and knocking against the stairwell. He found my room on the second try, slinging the door wide open and lurching into the dresser before he landed against my bed.

"Get in bed, you drunk," I teased him.

He remained sitting on the bed and removed his socks and shoes. He pulled off his shirts, then stood and dropped his pants, climbing into bed in nothing but his boxers. He curled around me, nuzzling my neck.

"Ever had sex in this bed?" he asked.

"Hush," I scolded him. "That's sacrilege. Blasphemy."

"Is it a taboo? Because if it's a taboo, then we _have_ to do it."

Before I could say, "Go to sleep," he was humming loudly in my ear, dreaming of heroic marines and army maneuvers from the movies he had watched.

I slept only fitfully, uncomforted by Blue Eyes' presence. Around six, I expressed milk, crawled out of bed, and went downstairs to start coffee. Daddy met me.

"Here's a picture of your granddaughter," I told him as I handed him a snapshot of Zelda.

He looked at the picture briefly, then set it on the table. "Your mother said the doctor isn't the father."

"Since when did you ever listen to Mama?" I poured coffee for each of us.

"What did that note from Greg's doctor say?" he asked.

"Aren't you just nosy this morning?"

He stirred his coffee. "He's been calling your mother ever since the two of you quit dating."

"What? That was before I married Allen. Why was he calling Mama?"

He hesitated before answering. "I think he developed a friendship with her so he could keep up with you. You know your mother – she could never _not_ have a conversation with a male."

Daddy was correct; Mother had always been flirtatious. Not that she was unhappy with Daddy. Her flirtatiousness had nothing to do with romance, but it had everything to do with her ego. Mother's identity had always been tied to the favor of the nearest male.

"Daddy," I began, "Aaron was not a good guy. I don't want to run into him while I'm home."

"'Not a good guy'? What does that mean?"

"It means just what I said. If he tries to bother me, I need for you to help keep him away." I was trying to stress my seriousness without divulging the whole situation to Daddy. I was not succeeding.

"Shouldn't your doctor be the one to fend off other suitors for you?"

I exhaled loudly. "Blue Eyes is not _mine_. And Aaron is definitely _not_ a suitor. Just humor me with this. Please."

Just as I was finishing my plea, Blue Eyes, in a crumpled t-shirt and faded jeans, stumbled into the kitchen scratching his ass with his free hand. "Coffee?" he grumbled.

I gave him my chair and poured him a cup.

"Good morning, Dr. House," Daddy said. "Nice picture of your daughter."

Blue Eyes squinted. "Huh? Zelda? Oh, yeah." He sipped his coffee and then swallowed two of his pain pills.

"You don't appear very enthusiastic," Daddy criticized.

"About what?" Blue Eyes asked.

"Your daughter."

"Oh," he said. Then he jumped as if he'd been stuck with a hot poker. "Oh, of course that's a good picture. She's beautiful. Just like her mother." He nodded towards me. "Yep."

I just let my head drop onto my chest.

Daddy looked at me. "Your mother was right more often than not."

Greg rolled in, freshly showered and irritatingly chipper. "Cissy, will you please make omelettes?" he whined playfully.

I acquiesced and started cooking. The food seemed to ease Blue Eyes' hangover, and it distracted Daddy from his quest for information. I made Greg promise to occupy Blue Eyes while I showered; I wanted no chance of his intruding on my shower while in my old home.

Around noon the family members began arriving with food. Mother was the oldest of four: Sibyl was two years younger, Hannah was four years younger, and Raymond was five years younger. Sibyl and her husband, Billy, arrived first, bearing a huge, spiral-cut, honey-glazed ham. I helped her arrange it on the dining room table. Hannah, a widow, came next with her divorced daughter, Melba. They brought huge tubs of potato salad, baskets of homemade rolls, and pitchers of mint tea. Raymond and his wife, Georgie, pulled up right behind Hannah and Melba; they unloaded several relish trays, platters of cookies and brownies, and a silver serving tray covered with sliced cheese. Blue Eyes was the first to start sampling the food, of course, barely allowing me to make introductions before he ate. Mary Dell and Dinah came in with a wobbly mold of green jello and a huge casserole of baked beans.

Blue Eyes looked at the ham he was shoving into his mouth and asked me, "Do you people ever eat _any_ meat that doesn't come from a pig?"

People kept pouring in, some with food and some with appetites. Many of Mother's former students came in to clasp my hand and kiss my cheek. She had taught physics at the local community college for thirty years before her retirement, so practically every doctor or engineer in the area had, at one time, been in her class. I was wearing a plain, dark wrap dress that soon became streaked with makeup from the cheeks of well-meaning old women. I rapidly tired of smiling and of hearing the praises of a woman who had refused to even gaze upon her first grandchild. I looked around for Blue Eyes.

He was talking earnestly to Greg when I walked up. "So, Greg, are any of these men from the Klan?"

Greg gave him a quizzical look. "You mean, like, Scottish clans? With tartans?"

"No, you idiot," B.E. said. "I mean like white-robe-wearing, cross-burning klansmen."

I stepped in and said, softly, "We're rednecks, Blue Eyes. Not mentally deficient criminals."

His eyes grew wide as he focused on me. "After what you told me about your grandfather's ingenious ways of earning a living . . ."

"Hold on, there, puddin'," I interrupted him hastily. "We southerners can be an emotional lot, and we _really_ don't like hearing a northerner criticize our eccentric family members. We need to let my grandfather rest in peace."

Greg grinned at our exchange as he continued munching on a piece of buttermilk pie. "Hey, biped, we're just now eating. Carb loading, if you want. After the visitation we'll break out the homemade wine. _Then_ you'll have no difficulty getting something started."

I gave both Greg and Blue Eyes pleading looks. "Don't either of you say anything to anyone about anything other than the weather. Do you understand? You're cleared to discuss the _weather_. Nothing else."

Two little girls, obviously twins, chased after each other, running around Greg's wheelchair and nearly upsetting B.E. We watched as they careened off into the living room, almost tripping Hannah, who weighed over three hundred pounds and was wearing a dress that could only have been made from drapery material.

"Who are they?" B.E. asked.

"Sibyl's granddaughters – Grace and Mercy," I said.

"Hope and Faith," Greg corrected me.

"Yeah, something like that," I muttered.

The house was overflowing and humid with too many people moving too many body parts. I slipped out the side door to stand in the cold air of the late afternoon. The sun was just beginning to set, and the visitation was just over an hour away. I leaned my face against the cool metal of the garage door, breathing deeply, only to jump when I felt a man's hand on my shoulder.

I swung around so quickly my heel caught in the cracked driveway, and I dropped to the pavement in an instant. As my tailbone connected with the asphalt, I looked up to see Allen, my ex-husband, standing over me, and I yelped in pain and recognition. He stooped down, reaching for my arm, when he was suddenly jerked backwards and knocked to the ground. Blue Eyes had punched him in the face.

"Stop!" I screamed, but B.E. was in Schwarzenegger mode. He pinned Allen to the driveway with his cane.

"Is this the crazy doctor?" he yelled me.

"No, no. That's the crazy _lawyer_. My ex-husband. Allen Nabors." I labored to get up, my butt throbbing.

Allen was on his own butt, covering his eye with his hand. Blue Eyes moved back a little and looked at me. "Not the obsessed attacker?"

I shook my head. "The obsessed litigator."

"Oh, f#ck," Blue Eyes murmured. He offered Allen a hand, but Allen declined.

"Who the hell are you?" Allen, trying to stand, screeched at B.E. "Audra, what the f#ck is going on here?"

"Allen, this is my, my, oh, he!!. This is my boyfriend, Greg House. He thought you were going to attack me."

"Clever judge of character. Never smart to punch an attorney," Allen said while staring at Blue Eyes. Then, he turned to me. "Audra, I just wanted to stop by and pay my respects. I thought we were both mature enough to manage a meeting without fisticuffs. My mistake." He turned to walk back down the driveway towards his car.

"Hey!" I yelled at him. When he stopped and pivoted, I clipped his jaw with my right fist. "You moutherf#cker! How dare you show up at my family's gathering to honor my dead mother? You have no business here, and definitely no business putting your hand on me. Ever." I flexed my fist in agony. Between the pain in my ss and in my fingers, I was nauseous and dizzy.

Allen made some jumbled threats of a lawsuit or a sanity hearing as he slunk off to his car. Blue Eyes limped over to me, holding out his bruised fist to compare with mine.

"I guess I pretty well suck at playing the white knight. But you, you kick ss. Good punch," Blue Eyes smiled wanly.

"I think I broke my coccyx," I whispered as I fell against him in a swoon.

Apparently, the verbal sparring as well as the physical altercations lured a number of spectators. Blue Eyes motioned for Daddy, who carried me inside and laid me on his bed. I was regaining consciousness when I heard Blue Eyes disputing my care with Daddy.

"She just has to make it through two lousy hours at the visitation. Afterwards, I'll go with you to take her to the ER," Daddy insisted.

Blue Eyes was shaking his head. When he noticed my open eyes, he said to me, "I can't actually do an exam here, but if you've cracked your coccyx, we need to take you to the hospital."

I interrupted him. "If you'll help me clean up and share some of your pain meds with me, I'd like to attend the visitation. Blue Eyes, I promise, if you'll help me get through it, I'll go to the ER afterwards."

Mary Dell entered the bedroom with an ice pack for B.E.'s hand. He smiled his thanks to her. She asked if I needed help getting ready. I held my hand out to Blue Eyes, and he plopped one pill in it: "No more for now, Tiger." I, uneasily, with Mary Dell's arm to lean on, made it into the bathroom. Mary Dell found a forest green, boiled wool suit in Mother's closet and stuffed me into it. She touched up my makeup and hair. By the time she escorted me into the living room for Blue Eyes, Greg, Daddy, and Dinah to see, everyone was pleased and in a rush to make it to the funeral home in Huntsville. Daddy, Greg, Blue Eyes, and I rode in the borrowed Lexus; I spent the trip constantly moving, alternating the pressure from one cheek to the other.

Mother's pewter casket was closed and blanketed with white roses. Her enlarged wedding photo was prominently displayed at the entrance to the room. She had managed to have herself eternally preserved as a beautiful, svelte, twenty-two-year-old bride. Daddy, who had been maintaining well, showed signs of emotional meltdown as he greeted all of those he'd already greeted at the house and many more. Blue Eyes stayed within arm's length of me, his watchful eye keeping me within his protective gaze.

My Aunt Hannah and her daughter paraded by. Blue Eyes asked, "Is her daughter really named after melba . . ."

". . . toast," I completed his sentence. "Yes, my aunt named her only child after a snack cracker."

"Hey, anyone named 'Florine' shouldn't be casting stones." He stared into my eyes and said, intimately, "At first I was worried about the name Zelda. However, after checking out the names these bubbas are handing out, I think Zelda is the cream of the crop."

"A common name wouldn't do."

"You know, when I saw your ex standing over you, I thought I was going to kill him. I was certain he was your rapist," he confided.

"I know, and I need to tell you how grateful I am for your gallantry. I've never been fought over before."

"You're flirting with me," he accused. "Does that mean we get to have sex in that bastion of your purity?"

"If you're referring to my childhood bed, the answer would be no."

"Aww, Tiger," he whined, "I'd let you do me in _my_ childhood bed."

"You'd let me do you on public television."

"No, Tiger, pay-per-view. Got to make money off it. We're _that_ good."

We smiled shyly at each other – two people flirting around a coffin.

The pain pill began to wear off; Blue Eyes noticed the grimace I thought no one saw. The scores of mourners were thinning out, and Greg was planning an after-visitation debauch. Blue Eyes put his hand on my waist and whispered, "How about we drive your dad and Greg back to the house, then go on to the ER?"

"What will they do to me?"

He smiled evilly. "Might do an x-ray or an MRI, but they will most certainly do a physical exam. A finger-up-the-butt exam."

"Why don't you just write me a prescription for those painkillers, and we'll see if it heals on its own?"

"I want to make sure you didn't screw up any of your vertebrae, Tiger."

I reluctantly complied. It was all Blue Eyes could do to _not_ conduct the physical exam himself, but he checked the x-ray and the MRI. He and the ER doctor agreed a healthy dose of painkillers and rest were the best remedies. As we were leaving, the doctor handed B.E. a small, inflatable donut. We limped out together, Blue Eyes chuckling devilishly.

"Where to?" Blue Eyes asked after handing me another pain pill. I was trying gamely to dry swallow it. Unfortunately, it caught in my throat, and I started coughing, which radiated down to my tailbone, causing sharp pains. B.E. slapped me on the back, and I spit the pill back out.

"Oh, he!1, Tiger, you've got to get better at swallowing things."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I thought swallowing was one of my talents."

"I can't remember."

"Then you won't miss it," I replied. I tried again to swallow the pill, with deserved success. My throat burned as it went down.

When we reached the house, the street was crammed with cars, and the house blazed brightly. We walked towards the front door, leaning closely to each other, and we might have actually exchanged a kiss had the pain pill not overpowered my gross motor skills. I hesitated at the foot of the steps, swaying.

"Tiger?" Blue Eyes said.

"I need to lie down," I slurred as I slumped against him for the second time that day.


	26. Chapter 26: Not the Way I Planned It

Chapter Twenty-six: Not the Way I Planned It

Blue Eyes helped me into the living room. I collapsed, gratefully, into an overstuffed chair. The younger members of my extended family were clustered around, drinking Daddy's homemade wine and beer. Dinah was in the kitchen concocting her version of a very alcoholic mulled wine. Mary Dell had ferreted out the photo albums and was, tearfully, sharing them with Melba and Sibyl's daughter, Eleanor. The sounds of male laughter echoed from the den; Greg, Raymond's sons, Junior and Wade, and Sibyl's son, Don, along with Eleanor's husband, Jerome, were congregated around the upright piano, butchering songs while drinking Daddy's homebrew. I elected to stay with the weepy women while sending Blue Eyes out into the testosterone-laden beer-fest. I could hear the change in the quality of playing when he took control of the piano. Drunken strains of the Beatles' "Yellow Submarine" floated through the house.

Dinah brought me a cup of hot, spiced wine and sat in a chair beside me. "What did the doctor say?"

"Cracked tailbone. Drugs and bed rest," I answered.

"You look a little pale. Drink that wine and I'll get you some more."

"Trying to get me drunk, are you?"

She smiled eagerly; Dinah was a cocker spaniel trapped in a pretty lesbian's body. "Whatever it takes to get you to tell me about Dr. Gregory House. Are you two involved?"

"We have a relationship that's not easily defined."

"But you have a baby," she asked, "with him?"

I was wearying of answering this question. "He's listed as the father on her birth certificate."

Fortunately, Dinah then lapsed into her wishful lamenting of childlessness. "I've committed myself to Mary Dell, and I love her, but she refuses to even entertain the idea of our having a baby. I want to have someone to love; I know I'll outlive her. Imogene's death has brought all of this to my mind. I worry about it all the time."

Before I could offer any words of consolation, my father, red-eyed and sniffling, called to me from the door to his bedroom. I joined him. He waved at the bed, so I sat.

"I'm saving Imogene's engagement ring for Greg. I'm sure you're not surprised. However, she wanted you to have her cameo ring, the one her mother gave her." He dropped the heirloom into my right hand. "I know you'll treasure it. Imogene revered her mother. They were devoted to each other. Perhaps you can, one day, hand this on to your daughter."

I was overcome with emotion. I had always felt excluded from the mother-daughter intimacy my mother shared with her mother. Their closeness with each other was so complete and fulfilling they didn't need to expand their circle and embrace me. As a result, I had grown up unmothered; my mother had no room in her life to be anything other than a compelling companion for a man and a dedicated daughter to her needy mother. Her ring was warm in my palm, as if it had just been removed from her living finger. There were many things I wanted to hand down to Zelda: unconditional love, an unlimited future; and an unfailing faith in herself. Admittedly, the things I wanted to give her were the very things I had been denied. However, as that ring warmed my palm and my fingers curled around it, I wanted to give her family connections beyond just a bond with me. I wanted her to inherit a sense of belonging that transcended the current generation. I wanted her to know her grandmother through me. I slipped the cameo onto the ring finger of my right hand and prayed for a link to my mother, and to her mother, and to my infant daughter.

Tears filled my eyes as I looked up at Daddy. I wanted to thank him for acknowledging the granddaughter he felt no interest in. As was the pattern in my family, I nodded to him and put none of my emotions into words. His expression was one of regret and gratitude. I left my father in his bedroom; I knew his life had not lived up to his expectations, but I also knew he was viewing an unexpected future without the familiar chaos and camaraderie Mother provided him. I was accustomed to aloneness and loneliness. I had, in fact, been weaned on solitude. I was better prepared for abandonment than Daddy could ever have been.

The living room was still the province of Mary Dell, Dinah, Melba, and Eleanor, whose grief was dulled by the warmth and intoxication of wine and fellowship as they giggled and laughed over past encounters with Mother. Mary Dell told of Daddy's awkward courtship of the sophisticated-seeming young woman who pretended to know more about society and etiquette than her narrow life in a small town could have presented. Melba and Eleanor remembered the odd dating advice Mother had given them, which, when condensed down to the most significant parts, amounted to little more than a stern admonishment to always carry enough money to make a phone call and to reject, tactfully, all suitors who expected more than the chaste goodnight kiss they earned by the purchase of a nice meal and a ticket to the latest movie. Sex was the result of a barter system. An off-tune rendition of "Muskrat Love" drifted in from the den.

I retreated to the kitchen, where I searched the drawers and cubbyholes until I found Mother's keys to her beloved car, a 1981 Mercedes 380 SL Roadster Convertible, arrest-me-red with a black top. I eased it out of the garage and headed for the back roads through the wildlife refuge until I found the spot where I wanted to park: a bluff overlooking the Tennessee River. No streetlights intruded on the peaceful midnight darkness and calm of the soothing water. When I was a child, before Greg's birth, my parents had owned a modest ski boat, and we spent every weekend on the river, joined by various other families in their boats. As time progressed, Mother's drinking increased so that every outing was marred by some caustic word or action; I, however, never lost my love for the serenity of the river. I let the car idle to keep the heat on, and I laid back in the seat and lost myself in the beauty of the nighttime.

I had left the house without notifying anyone; it never occurred to me I would be absent long enough to be missed, much less long enough to cause concern.

The sky was still dark as I pulled up to the house. Every light was on, and police cars littered the street. As I slipped the old Mercedes into the garage, I was bombarded with the frantic faces of my family. Greg rolled into the lawn to speak with the police, obviously telling them the alarm was over, while Blue Eyes limped up to my car door with a murderous expression.

He jerked my door open. "Where the he!! have you been?" he yelled. "I've been worried out of my mind. I was afraid you'd been kidnapped."

Tired and with a sore butt, I eased out of the car. I placed my palm against his chest; I could feel the rapidity of his heartbeat. "I'm so sorry, Blue Eyes. I just needed to be by myself. I didn't realize you all would be worried."

His blue eyes, usually so clear and light, were as dark as the night sky and filled with an emotion I couldn't read. "After the altercation with your ex, how could you possibly disappear and _not_ think we'd be worried? Have you lost your f#cking mind?" he continued yelling.

"Please," I begged him. "I am truly sorry. But I'm very tired and very sore. Will you just let me lie down and sleep a bit?"

He used his left hand to pull me against his chest. "Yeah. We'll all lie down and get some sleep. But if you ever do anything so idiotic again, I'll . . ."

"Gee, Blue Eyes," I muttered against his shoulder, "I didn't know you cared so much."

"I don't," he whispered into my ear. "I just hated seeing your family of misfits and miscreants losing their sh!t. _I've_ felt the force of your fist before. _I_ know you're better able to take care of yourself than most. You certainly frighten me."

"You're a liar, and _I_ know you're a liar," I whispered back as his hand gently rubbed my shoulder blade.

He steered me into the house. As we passed Greg on the way upstairs, he stopped Blue Eyes.

"She all right?" Greg asked.

"Yeah. I've got her," B.E. answered.

"Let's don't let her escape again," Greg said with an underlying, threatening tone.

"I don't intend to," he responded, using his hand around my shoulders to nudge me on up the stairs.

Once inside my bedroom with the door locked and the lights out, we both stripped and climbed into bed. He pulled me onto his chest and held me, his lips tender against my scalp. I cried there, on his chest, my whole body shaking with the release of sorrow. Blue Eyes tightened his arms around me, stroking my hair with one hand, and he didn't once whine about the sleep he had lost because of my thoughtlessness. He held me and stayed awake with me until my sobs subsided and he could feel my body relax in slumber. Only then did he give in to his need to rest.

I felt him stirring next to me, his teeth nibbling on my earlobe. I rolled toward him, still largely asleep, my mouth seeking his. He found me, or his mouth found my mouth, and we kissed languorously, sensually, affectionately. I arched my back so I could feel more of my skin touching his skin when the shooting pain from my cracked coccyx shocked my brain into an alert status. I lifted my head to check the bedside clock: it was eight. The graveside service started at one. Blue Eyes, of course, was trying to lure my mouth back to his.

"Here, Tiger, take a couple of these," he suggested, punching two of his pain pills into my mouth while he swallowed two himself.

I choked down the pills and laid back in the bed, gingerly positioning my butt-bone.

"I take it the moment has passed?" he pouted.

"Morning of Mother's funeral. Yeah, I think we'll wait on the mindless sex stuff. For now, at least."

He leaned over me, holding my face in both his hands. "But we will return to it. And it's not always _mindless_ sex. We're capable of _mindful_ sex."

"You're confusing me," I teased. "Just kiss me once more before I have to morph into mourning mode."

He kissed me lingeringly, pulling on my bottom lip with his teeth, flicking his tongue over my lips, and, essentially, doing anything he could to prolong the contact I craved. Finally, he kissed me openly, our tongues entwining and caressing while we pressed into each other with the passion we were forced to contain. Knowing we could go no further intensified my longing and my eagerness to be joined with him again.

The faint sounds of Greg bellowing for us from the foot of the stairs intruded. "Cissy, biped, breakfast is served. Get down here, pronto."

"We need to go downstairs," I mentioned.

He grumbled, but he released me as I reluctantly left the bed. He groaned, then pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt to go eat. I followed him.

Dinah, in a t-shirt that read, "American by Birth / Southerner by the Grace of God," bounded around the kitchen flipping pancakes while Greg, as normal, tried to get in her way with his wheelchair.

"There they are," Greg greeted us.

"Where's Daddy?" I asked as I poured coffee for Blue Eyes and myself.

"Mary Dell took him home with her. They're going to meet us at the cemetery," Greg answered.

Dinah set a plate of homemade blueberry pancakes before Blue Eyes; a happy smile spread over his face. Greg passed him a plate of bacon. Dinah poured more pancake batter onto the griddle.

"Can I help you?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "Sit down. I've got it covered."

Greg gestured towards Dinah with his fork. "Dinah slept over to give us a hand getting ready for this afternoon. By the way, Audra, Dad wants you to go meet the director at the funeral home before noon to make sure they'll have everything ready for the graveside."

"Of course," I muttered. I gazed out the kitchen windows; a steady stream of cold rain rolled down the glass. A dark, dreary January Sabbath – a horrible day for a funeral.

Greg pushed a set of keys across the table to me. "Dad wants you to have Mother's car. He said you could drive it back or leave it here until a better time to get it. But he wants you to keep it."

I held the keys in my hand, measuring their weight. I loved the convertible. I wondered if my sore tailbone could stand a three day drive back to New Jersey. The temptation to head back by road was exhilarating. "What do you think, Blue Eyes? A road trip back?"

Blue Eyes looked up from the pancakes he was devouring. "Huh? You want to ride in a car for days on a cracked ass? I never noticed your masochistic tendencies before, but I guess I can quit hiding my bullwhip and break out the handcuffs."

"Yeah, baby, let me get my hands on your whip," I leered at him.

Dinah laughed as she handed me a plate of pancakes. "Ya'll crack me up."

"You think everyone's entertaining, Dinah. I bet you have long, involved conversations with all the geeks who thumb through your comics, especially the ones who never spend a dime," Greg teased.

"I'm fond of most of my regulars. Remember, most of my business comes from repeat customers."

"But the question is," B.E. interjected, "do you make a profit?"

Greg answered, "She's not in it for the money, b.p. She has Mary Dell for that. She's performing a service for the public, providing valuable reading material for the young and near-illiterate."

"And how much money did you leave with me on your last visit, including a healthy discount?" Dinah responded.

Greg grinned happily. "Dinah, come sit in my lap. I bet I can convince you male cripples are way more fun than female scientists."

"Yeah, Greg, hold your breath for that one."

Blue Eyes laughed along with Greg.

"I'm going upstairs to get ready since I have to go by the funeral home first." I pointed at B.E. "Make sure he stays downstairs," I ordered.

Blue Eyes snorted, but rather than get up, he just pulled my half-full plate to him and started eating off it.

I showered slowly, trying to prepare myself mentally for the trip to the funeral home. I had already been as close to Mother's casket as I cared to be. I shouldn't have been surprised Daddy would leave me with the dirty work.

Blue Eyes came in as I was putting on my serious black suit. He sat on the bed and watched me as I applied makeup, corralled my hair, and added pearl earrings and black pumps. When I was all finished, he walked over to me and hugged me in one of those comforting, encouraging hugs.

"Can you handle this, Tiger?" he asked.

"No choice, Blue Eyes."

"Let me get a quick shower, and I'll go to the funeral home with you."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on tightly. "I need to go on. I can take Mother's car and meet the rest of you at the graveside."

I felt his hands on my shoulders tense. "I don't like the idea of you going out alone."

"If he was going to lie in wait for me, he wouldn't expect me to be at the funeral home," I insisted.

"Keep your cell phone _in your hand_," he ordered.

I nodded obediently.

As I drove up to the funeral home, the rain increased in ferocity. I struggled with my orange and blue Auburn umbrella as I made my way into the office. Henry Mason, the owner, was waiting for me in his black, undertaker suit. He shook my hand solemnly and led me to a room at the back of the building. He was telling me, in a quiet voice, of the blanket of lilies they had ready to cover her coffin before they loaded it for the trip to the small cemetery. He also told me several of his employees would deliver the plants and flowers to Daddy's house the following day. I nodded my head unceasingly.

I was so absorbed in all Mr. Mason was telling me, I didn't realize we were in the room with Mother's casket until I looked in front of me and saw her, reclining as if asleep, amongst the gray, silk cushions. I stopped. I didn't want to see her. Mr. Mason continued walking and talking as if I were still right beside him. When he realized I was frozen a few feet behind him, he came back to me and said, consolingly, in his hushed, undertaker voice, "I thought perhaps you'd want to see her before we sealed it. She looks beautiful and so peaceful. But she always was a lovely woman."

"She's dead," I said tonelessly.

"Yes, bless her heart. But her expression is one of contentment. She is reaping her rewards in heaven."

I looked at him as if he were speaking Swahili. "She's dead," I said with more energy and more volume.

"Yes," he continued in his quiet, comforting monotone, "she is with our Lord now."

I opened my mouth to point out the many unchristian acts she had committed, but her reposed body encouraged me to stop. I asked, "When will you be ready to move her to the grave?"

"The boys in the back will seal her casket and move it into the hearse when you have finished your farewell. I'll wait for you back in my office." He then made an abbreviated bow at the waist and soundlessly disappeared.

Alone, I stepped closer to the body, noticing the heavy makeup that colored her face. I felt no sorrow looking at her; her body was unreal and unattached to my memories of her. I rested my hand on the edge of the coffin, feeling the slick fabric she was nestled in.

The masculine arm curled around my neck and jerked back violently, pulling me off my feet. I felt my windpipe being crushed, and I struggled to free myself so I could breathe.

"Didn't you get my note, Audra? I was hoping you'd call me," his familiar voice hissed in my ear.

I lifted my right foot and was about to bring it down forcefully onto his instep when he jerked me sideways. I realized he intended to kill me this time as he slammed my head on Mother's casket and darkness enveloped me.


	27. Chapter 27: It Happened Like This

Chapter Twenty-seven: It Happened Like This

I regained consciousness quickly. I heard Aaron.

"Audra, I've waited for you. Why didn't you call me?" His voice was pleading, whining. Suddenly, his voice changed. "Damn it all, Audra, why couldn't you just do what I wanted? We were so good together. You should never have married that fucking lawyer. And then you moved away. I can't let you leave again. Ever. Can't." He had begun to yell.

I felt the blood pouring from my head. I kept my eyes closed while trying to sneak my cell phone from my purse.

"Imogene," Aaron crooned, turning to look at Mother, "you know I'm devoted to you, but Audra was always my first love. If it hadn't been for you, though, I would never have found her last summer on the campus. And that's a thank you I can't explain." His maniacal laughter erupted.

I pressed the button to call Blue Eyes while simultaneously pushing the mute button and hoped Blue Eyes would decipher.

"But the baby, Imogene," he continued while gesturing wildly at Mother's corpse. "I know it was hard for you to continue talking to me when you were with her in New Jersey, and I appreciate that you made the effort. Without you, I'd have never known there was a baby. And, although you wouldn't like it, the fact remains the child is mine."

I pushed the off button to my phone, hoping enough had been either heard or recorded.

"Audra," he recited in a psychotic sing-song, "the baby is mine. Rock-a-bye-baby, thy name is mine."

I prayed for the interference of Blue Eyes and Greg.

The assistants of the funeral home rattled the locked doors; Aaron perked up and listened.

"Rattle all you want, guys, but there's no entrance," Aaron opined. He leaned on the casket, stroked Mother's face with the back of his hand, and then looked down at me. I tried to remain stationary. He kicked my foot. "Audra, honey, where's my daughter? We need to go get her." He was suddenly serious and focused. "Bet she's at your house. Who's watching my baby, Audra?"

The men began banging on the door. Aaron looked up. The lock turned; Henry Mason threw the doors open. As soon as he saw me, he ran over. The assistants stood uneasily around the door. Aaron eased behind Henry and hurried out.

Henry yelled, "Call an ambulance! Quick!" The assistants scurried to the phone. He said, "Audra? Are you okay?"

"No. Yes." I put my hand to my forehead and felt the blood. Henry put his arm around my shoulders and helped me sit up. I turned on my cell phone and called Blue Eyes.

"Audra?" he answered. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the funeral home. Aaron was here."

"Fuck. Are you all right?" He sounded panicked.

"My head is bleeding. Henry's called an ambulance."

"Where is Aaron now?"

"Blue Eyes, he left. Listen, he knows I had a baby. He knows she's his daughter. He's crazy, Blue Eyes. He was talking to Mother like she was alive. He's gone to find Zelda – probably to my house."

"Okay, Tiger. Go to the hospital. I'll call the ER. Hopefully, Dr. Walters is on duty again. I'm going to have him admit you overnight."

"Wait. I don't need . . ."

"Shut up. I want you somewhere safe."

"We need to call the police," I said.

"No. Don't. I'll call them when I'm ready for them."

"What?"

"Tell the director to carry on with the funeral. I'll be at the hospital when I get finished here."

The tone of his voice made me nervous. He was unemotional but calculating. He had a plan. "Blue Eyes, don't do anything . . ."

"I'll see you at the hospital as soon as we take care of some things," he said, his voice trailing off as he focused on something, someone, other than me. He hung up.

I heard the siren as Henry took the phone from my hand. He was using his handkerchief to apply pressure to my head.

"Henry, please, have the boys take Mama to the cemetery. Daddy doesn't need a delay in her burial, and he sure doesn't need to worry about me."

I tried to stand, but he pushed me back down. The EMTs came in with a stretcher. I made a vain attempt to walk, but they wouldn't tolerate it. As they wheeled me to the ambulance, I heard Henry giving directions to get Mother into the hearse so they could hurry to the cemetery. One of the EMTs tried to start an IV; I finally had to yell at him and threaten to jump out of the moving ambulance so he'd leave my arm alone.

"Miss, if you don't lie down and be still . . ." he said menacingly.

I complied. Dr. Walters was, indeed, on duty and waiting for me. He examined my gash.

"You'll need stitches, Audra, but the cut is in your hairline. There should be little, if any, scarring. We'll sew you up down here and then send you upstairs." He smiled reassuringly and patted my arm. "I've talked to Dr. House. We're having a private room readied for you."

He got out his penlight and started flashing it in my eyes. I hated those damn things. "I don't think I have a concussion," I told him.

"Dr. House gave me some pretty specific instructions. I'm going to deaden your forehead now."

I closed my eyes; he sewed up my head. He gave me a fairly strong pain killer and had me shifted to my room. I became fuzzy with both an aching head and an aching ass, but I was mainly worried about Blue Eyes. I watched the clock and pictured him encountering Aaron. I envisioned a variety of scenarios, none of which ended well. Aaron was obviously actively psychotic, hallucinatory, and frighteningly dangerous. I feared Blue Eyes' would do something stupidly heroic.

I had dozed off, finally, when Greg's wheelchair's bumping into my bed woke me.

"Huh?" I cried, startled.

"Are you okay, Cissy?" he asked tenderly.

"Blue Eyes?" I asked. "Is he okay?"

Greg nodded. "Cissy, I have a long story to tell you, and you're going to have to listen. And just listen."

"But Aaron . . ." I began.

"Sweetie, Aaron is no longer able to hurt you. I promise."

"Where is Blue Eyes, though?"

"He's with the police. I came here because I wanted to talk to you alone. Cissy, I want you to understand clearly all that happened."

He was looking earnestly at me. "You are frightening me, Greg."

"Just listen, okay?"

I nodded apprehensively.

"When you called House, we were heading to the cemetery, so we turned around and went back to the house. Dinah had stayed there in case any lost mourners showed up, and to, generally, keep an eye on things. On the drive, House told me all about what Aaron did."

I covered my eyes with my hands. I didn't want Greg to know.

"Cissy," he said quietly. "It's okay. I had to know. And, yes, I was fighting mad. But House, he was calm. Eerily calm." He paused and took a deep breath. "As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Dinah came flying out the door. She told us a strange man, Michaels, had stopped by asking about your daughter. Well, you know Dinah; she's not about to give any information to any man she doesn't know and probably not to most she _does_ know. And, apparently, he was acting a tad odd. She had a bad feeling. She told him he had the wrong house or some such thing. After muttering to himself and pacing for a bit, he finally left. House told her, very quickly, what was going on. I suggested we drive by his house, and Dinah ran inside, grabbed Dad's autographed Stan Musial bat, and hopped in the car with us."

"Not Daddy's bat," I cried.

"Yep. I started to suggest she should leave it behind, but she raised it up in an energetic motion that made me uncomfortable, so I decided she could have the damn bat. We went by Michaels's house, but there was no sign of life, so we drove to his office. His car was there."

"Oh, shit," I muttered.

"Yeah. Well. Dynamite Dinah and her weapon decided they'd go around back and see if they could get into his office. I went with House to the front; the doors weren't locked. Now, Cissy, I want you to understand, as mad as I was, House was in control. Totally."

"Wait," I interrupted. "Since when do you call him 'House'?"

Since this afternoon." Greg paused. "He opened the doors and called out for Michaels. And the damn fool answered. House just walked right on in, as calm as you please, talking familiarly. He told Michaels he heard he was looking for your baby. He said he could help him out and that he knew where she was. Well, Michaels came out into the waiting room then, a gun in his hand. He wanted to know who House was, and House said, 'I'm a friend of Audra's. I understand you have some interest in her daughter.' That crazy man started ranting about how you had stolen his child and were keeping her from him. He insisted Mother had promised him she'd tell him where the baby was, but she had let him down. Cissy, he was out of his mind. But House just kept talking to him. He told him, 'Imogene betrayed you, man. She knew the baby was yours the entire time. She just didn't want you near the baby.' Michaels stopped and paid attention to House then. He demanded to know where the baby was. Cool as a cucumber, House said, 'She died. Your daughter died. She's buried in New Jersey.'

"That sent Michaels into a frenzy. He was waving the gun around and saying you had killed her. House said, 'Audra never wanted that baby. She was glad she died. It was a blessing. And Imogene was relieved, too.' Michaels started cursing you, calling you every name he could think of. House just stood there, listening, never taking his eyes off the gun. When Michaels started saying he had to go find you and make you pay for killing his daughter, House spoke up again. He said, 'Audra's left. She didn't want to be around you. But it's okay. She's going to marry me anyway. She did tell you that, right?' Oh my god, Cissy, that stopped him cold. He started yelling about how he would see you dead before he'd see you married to someone else. Said he'd suffered through your marriage to Allen, and he wasn't going through that again. And House just stood there, watching. Waiting.

"Cissy, Michaels was crying. The motherfucker was crying. House started talking to him again. 'Women really can do you wrong,' he said. 'I know what it's like. They're no good. And she killed your daughter, too. I can't imagine how you have the strength to go on.' Cissy, that man listened to House. And he started agreeing. House said, 'Once a man has lost his child, there's not much left for him. I mean, Audra's out of reach and your baby's dead and buried. I don't see how you can carry on.' And you could see Michaels thinking. Taking it in. He was agreeing with everything House said, but he stopped ranting and raving. He grew quieter. And he started staring at the gun. The quieter Michaels got, the quieter House became. He was almost whispering to him. And I don't mind admitting I was sweating like a pig, I was so scared. But not House. He asked Michaels, 'What have you got left, man? You know what to do. I can tell by the way you look. Go on. It's what Imogene would want.'"

Greg stopped, the strain showing on his face. "He shot himself, Cissy. When the gun fired, it was the only time I saw House flinch."

I clenched my jaw, but I didn't cry. At least, not for Aaron. The tears that slid down my face were for Blue Eyes.

"Dinah had come up behind me. Her and her bat. We just sat there and stared. House went over to make sure he had no pulse, but it was obvious. Then he called 911. He told us to leave. He said he'd take care of the police. I dropped Dinah at Mary Dell's and came straight here. Shit, she got out of the car still gripping that damn bat.

"Cissy, I don't believe House had any intention of allowing that man to live. He knew he could manipulate Michaels, use his psychosis against him, and get him to do what he needed to do. We all knew he needed to be killed. But House, he was the one who was determined to make sure it happened. He wasn't going to give him a chance to ever hurt you or Zelda again. I firmly believe he'd have died himself before he'd have let Michaels walk out of there."

"I need to see him," I whispered amidst my tears.

"I know, Cissy. But you're going to have to give him time to be able to see you and appear unaffected. He doesn't want you to know how much he cares. That wouldn't be comfortable for him."

"Then tell me, Greg, how do I keep him from knowing how much I care?"

"You don't, Cissy. You don't."

I threw my legs off the bed and started to stand.

"Whoa! What are you doing?" Greg cried. "Get back in bed."

"No," I answered. "I'm going to find him."

"Cissy, you're wearing a hospital gown with rearview air conditioning. You can't go anywhere in that."

I stood still, holding onto the bed. "My clothes are in that drawer across the room. If you won't get them for me, I'll get them myself."

Greg parked himself in my way. "Get your silly ass back in that bed or I'll call a nurse."

"Call her," I said as I started taking shaky steps towards him.

He reached for the call button, but I shoved it out of his reach. I glared at him.

"You're being a stubborn bitch, Cissy. I guess you know that."

"If you'd just hand me my clothes, we'd have no quarrel, Greg." I maintained my tough façade, but my head was reeling.

Our battle was interrupted when the door opened and Blue Eyes walked in. He took one look at me and started fussing.

"Get your broken butt back in that bed _now_. Back up, Greg. I want to look at her head. See if anything important leaked out."

He was pale, his eyes a dark, cobalt blue, and his hands trembled slightly.

Greg rolled out of the room, smiling conspiratorially at me as he left. I sat back down promptly.

"All the way in the bed. Put your legs up," he said.

I did as he instructed, my eyes never leaving his face.

He pushed the hair back from my forehead and removed the bandage. "Not bad. Walters makes nice, neat stitches. You won't have a noticeable scar."

He sat beside me on the bed, folding his arms across his chest. He shifted his gaze to my wet cheeks. Reaching out his hand, he cocked his head and rubbed his index finger down my face from the edge of my eye to the tip of my chin. "Audra, everything's okay. No one's going to bother you again. I promise."

I nodded. I hadn't the capacity for speech.

"Oh, hell," he sighed. He leaned forward and gathered me in his arms, pulling my head against his shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his middle, holding tightly, and wept.

"I was so wor . . ." I started.

"Hush," he whispered into my hair.

"But," I tried again.

"Shhh. I know."


	28. Chapter 28: Aftermath

Chapter Twenty-eight: Aftermath

A timid knock on the door interrupted our reverie.

"Come in," Blue Eyes said.

Daddy walked in hesitantly. I pulled away from Blue Eyes, but he remained on the bed, his left arm draped across my legs with his hand clasping my waist.

"Daddy," I said with profound sadness. "I'm so sorry I wasn't at Mama's funeral."

He sat in the chair beside Blue Eyes. "I know what happened, Audra. You have nothing to apologize for." He stopped; his eyes, red and tired, skirted my eyes. "How are you?"

"She has eight stitches along her hairline," Blue Eyes answered. "She needs to rest."

Daddy turned to Blue Eyes. "Thank you, Dr. House, for protecting Audra. I had no idea . . ."

"No offense, Dan, but neither you nor your wife were ever concerned about protecting Tiger. In fact," he continued sternly. Pent-up, unexpressed anger seized control of his facial expressions as well as his verbal expressions. Blue Eyes stood, towering over my seated father, and clenched his hands into hard balls of fists. He talked quickly in an escalating tone. "In fact, Dan, I'd even suggest you contributed to her vulnerability, allowing that sick bastard to prey on her need for male approval."

"You're making assumptions about situations beyond your possible comprehension, Dr. House," Daddy, tight-lipped, commented in a small and defensive voice. "I will reiterate my appreciation for your intervention on Audra's behalf, but I came here, Dr. House, to address her. Not you."

Blue Eyes refused to relent. If anything, his stance became more menacing as my father, older and frailer, appeared to recede. "I know more about your daughter than you ever could," he said in a confident voice. "I've talked with her, Dan, and I've listened to her. And I've heard her. I will not excuse your responsibility in her endangerment."

"Stop," I said. I stretched forward to place my hand on Blue Eyes' arm, but he ignored me and refused to turn. "Please. Blue Eyes," I begged.

He shrugged his head, shaking the arm I was grasping, although it only made me tighten my hold.

"Daddy," I said while scrutinizing Blue Eyes, "I know you're tired. I'm fine here. Really. Why don't you go spend the night at Mary Dell's? We can talk tomorrow."

Daddy massaged his brow. "I am tired. I would like for us talk tomorrow, Audra." He rose from his chair, coming nose-to-nose with Blue Eyes. "Dr. House, for the third time, thank you for coming to my daughter's aid." He squeezed my shoulder and, slowly, headed for the door. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, he glanced back at me, his impenetrable mask of arrogance slipping fleetingly as his weary eyes reached out to mine. He reclaimed his protective demeanor immediately, then turned and proceeded to exit. One quick glimpse of him, naked with all of his insecurities, anguish, and guilt displayed, was all I was allowed.

Blue Eyes' shoulders slumped as he sank into the vacated chair.

"You needed to start a pissing contest with my father?" I asked.

"I didn't need to, but the timing seemed right."

"He just buried his wife."

He looked straight at me with not one iota of remorse. "That's what kept me from talking to her. Although it didn't stop Michaels."

"He really was psychotic?" I asked.

"Of course. How else could he hold both sides of a complete conversation with a dead woman? And, of course, he did commit suicide."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"I wanted you to be safe from him."

"You look tired," I observed.

"I am," he answered in a pensive tone.

"Why don't you go back to the house and get some sleep? Greg will be there."

"So will your father. I think I'll take my chances in this chair."

"Come on," I said, patting the bed beside me. "Crawl up."

The bed was a regulation hospital bed, too narrow for a couple; nevertheless, Blue Eyes curled next to me, his head cradled on my breast, my arms encircling him. He fell asleep long before I did.

Monday morning found me sleepily awake, cramped and cramping with Blue Eyes flung across me humming contentedly. I needed to pee, so I eased out from under him and made my way to the restroom. When I finished cleaning up, I heard a timid knock on the hospital room door. I opened it myself to find Dinah, nervous but smiling, holding out a bag of donuts.

"Hey," I whispered. "Blue Eyes is asleep; why don't we find somewhere else to eat these?"

She nodded.

I tied my gown securely around me to avoid any undue exposure, and we walked to the elevators in silence. As soon as we found the cafeteria, we got coffee for both of us and sat at a table in a corner. Dinah appeared to relax.

"What brings you out so early?" I asked her.

"I wanted to see you before I go open the store," she answered. "I gather Greg already told you about the, uh, the incident with Dr. Michaels."

I nodded. I wanted to hear her version, so I remained quiet to encourage her."Are you okay with my talking about it?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes."

"When we saw he was at his office, I rooted around in back trying to find a way in. I missed most of the negotiations, but when I did go in the front behind Greg, I just wanted to knock that cocksucker down and start wailing on him with your daddy's prized bat. You know?"

I had to smile – Dinah was so enthusiastically protective.

"But I was stunned when I heard Dr. House. Shocked. I couldn't f#cking believe what he was saying."

"What do you mean?"

She sipped her coffee. "Michaels was obviously hallucinating. I mean, he was talking to Imogene and answering her as if she were asking him questions. Now, that was freaky enough. But Dr. House, he was a little freaky, too."

"Dinah, I'm not understanding what you mean," I said in a hushed voice.

"It was like Dr. House became whoever Michaels thought he was talking to. He started answering Michaels with the things Imogene would say. Like he was pretending to be her. And Michaels seemed to buy it. Then, well, Michaels started talking and listening to someone else. I think, maybe, he thought his father was talking to him." Dinah paused, running her hands through her hair.

This was a bit of the story I hadn't heard. I waited for her to continue.

"Dr. House listened, then he started talking to Michaels like he was his father. He answered when Michaels asked questions. And he was not pretending to be an approving father-figure, either. He was criticizing Michaels, telling him what a disappointing son he had been. Telling him he had fucked up. He was pushing him, Cissy. It's almost like he was goading him."

"Goading him?" I repeated.

"I know he did what needed to be done. I know that. But it was frightening, watching and listening. Dr. House talked Michaels into killing himself. At least, that's the way it looked and sounded to me."

"Dinah," I began, "are you saying Blue Eyes did something he shouldn't have?"

"Oh, no, Cissy. Not at all. It was just that," she stopped and gazed past me, considering, before she finished, "that he was controlling Michaels exactly like he was a puppet. Dr. House knew precisely what to say to put the idea in his head. He intended for Michaels to commit suicide. He wanted it. He manipulated it. And he was happy when it ended. He smiled, Cissy, when he took his pulse and knew the guy was dead. Granted, I wanted him dead, too, but I wasn't happy to witness the bstard blowing the brains he had all over the office wall. Dr. House was happy."

I felt an unease creeping up my spine. "Why do you think he wanted him to do that?"

Dinah's expression remained contemplative. "Cissy, he loves you. He must. Greg and I were ready to beat the living daylights out of that psycho because of what he'd done to you. Dr. House wanted him dead for the same reason. He wanted you protected. And, it seems to me, he wanted revenge. Besides, if Michaels killed himself, there was no reason to publicize his attacking you or his being Zelda's father. Dr. House didn't want to put your business on the streets. He!!, enough of us now know as it is. But you know whether or not he loves you?"

She asked a question I was unable to answer. "I don't know, Dinah."

"Surely he's told you?"

"He hasn't even told me anything about what happened to Aaron. He's not a revealing sort of guy."

Dinah reached out and covered my hand with hers. "You're in love with him?"

I didn't know how to answer. I had been so preoccupied for so long with Zelda and Mother and work, I had just taken Blue Eyes' intrusion in my life as a frequently pleasant annoyance. I knew I didn't want him to disappear from my life, but did I feel the heart-stopping intensity of movie love? Did anyone?

"Cissy," she said. "There's something else I didn't tell you, but maybe I should."

My stomach lurched; there was something in her voice . . .

"Michaels didn't have his gun out when they got there. Greg told me. Dr. House asked him if he had one. He suggested he needed to get it. He suggested it was the answer to his problems."

"Blue Eyes did what?"

"That's not all, Cissy. Dr. House got Michaels to agree to a suicide pact with him."

"A what?"

She nodded. "He told Michaels the best way to hurt you would be for both of them to die – to leave you totally alone. No mother, no daughter, no men. He scared the bejesus out of us. We thought he was serious. To tell the truth, I'm not sure he wouldn't have followed through with it if he'd thought it was the only way to get rid of Michaels."

"What?" I gasped, horrified. "Are you saying Blue Eyes has a death wish? That he's self-destructive?"

"No, Cissy. I'm saying he was willing to do anything to make sure that lunatic would never be able to get near you again."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "He wouldn't have done anything to hurt himself."

"You don't believe he cares enough about you to be willing to sacrifice himself for your safety?"

"No," I said flatly.

"You're wrong, Cissy. Call it love, call it codependency, call it a god complex, but he was only concerned with your safety."

I couldn't comprehend what she was telling me. The implications. Would Blue Eyes have really gone to such lengths for me? It didn't make sense.

"Dinah, I appreciate what you've told me. I don't mean to be rude, but I need to go speak to Blue Eyes."

"Let me give you a little advice, Cissy. He was bargaining with the devil yesterday. He's not used to that. You might want to give him some time to think about his actions before you grill him. I mean, isn't it enough you know how he feels?"

"Dinah, I don't know how he feels."

She patted my arm as we rose and walked out. "Cissy, you know very well how he feels. You just aren't used to the idea. You'll come around. And so will he."

I slipped quietly into the room. Blue Eyes was sitting up in bed, sleep still crusting the corners of his eyes. He managed a weak smile.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

"Dinah came by to talk with me about yesterday." I watched him to detect any change in his demeanor, but there was none.

"Is she okay? Still carrying around that bat?"

I smiled at him as I hopped up between his legs, my back resting against his chest. "She was on her way to open her comic book shop, so I guess she's okay. She probably stowed the bat under her car seat."

I felt his laughter rumble against my lower back as he wrapped his arms around me. "She had a death grip on that damn bat. She made me nervous."

"You made her nervous."

"Why? I_ love_ women. I was never going to take that bat out of her hands and use it on _her_. _She's_ the one who looks for an excuse to beat up a man."

"She wasn't worried for her own welfare. She was worried about you."

His arms, while still around me, tensed. I could feel his biceps flexing around my shoulders. "I had everything under control."

"Did you want him to kill himself?"

"Do you regret that he did?"

"I wish Dinah, Greg, and you hadn't had to witness it, or be involved in it."

He relaxed. "I know, Tiger. They had no business being there."

"And you did?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered flatly.

And that was all he'd say about the "incident," except to assure me he had given the police a complete and satisfactory account and that there would be no further investigation. "Zelda is yours," he said. "That worry is over."

Resting in his embrace, as comforting as it was and as much as I needed the comfort, I had a nagging sensation of dread.

We left the hospital and went home. Our flight was scheduled to leave at three-fourteen that afternoon.

"Aren't you going to drive the Mercedes back?" Daddy asked me.

We were milling around, packing and killing time. "I really need to get back to Zelda and to work."

Blue Eyes stopped eating the leftover Brunswick stew I had heated for him. "You need to find out if that Ph.D. guy has stolen your stuff. I don't trust him," he interjected. "Why don't you fly back today, and I'll drive the car back for you? Cuddy can live without me for another few days."

I stopped sorting through the sympathy cards and looked at him. "You want to drive in this winter weather?"

He shrugged. "I'm used to it, Tiger. I _do_ live in New Jersey."

I considered, briefly, going with him, but between my cracked coccyx and my need to both see Zelda and check on my program, I felt compelled to fly back. I wanted Blue Eyes with me; however, I thought a few days apart might be good. I still needed time to grieve for my mother, and, I knew, he needed time to process Aaron's suicide. After much consideration, we decided Blue Eyes would drive me to the airport before heading north on his trek. He called Jim, who agreed to meet me that evening when my flight arrived.

Saying goodbye to Daddy was hard. Of course, since he was now an eligible bachelor, he was surprisingly popular. That morning alone, he had received two phone calls from single church women inviting him to a Wednesday night dinner and a Saturday supper club. Bethanne Murphy, the boldest of the lot, stopped by the house Monday morning to drop off a coffee cake and an invitation to dinner "just to make sure you're not starving yourself." Daddy was uneasy with this new attention, but I told him he should accept every offer and make use of female talents all he could.

Before I could get teary, Greg rolled in. He spied Blue Eyes' stew.

"Cissy," he whined, "_please_ make me some Brunswick stew."

"Where have you been?" I asked him.

"Dinah's store."

"Oh, he!!. How much money did you leave there?"

He shook his head and refused to answer.

"I'll make you a deal, Greg. I want to go to the cemetery. Ride with me to see Mama's grave, and I'll heat your some stew when we get back," I bargained.

Blue Eyes said, "I'll go with you."

"No, Blue Eyes. You finish packing 'cause we'll need to leave for the airport as soon as we get back. Greg, let's take Daddy's truck."

Greg, reluctantly, went with me. He wasn't leaving for Washington until Tuesday evening.

As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, I questioned him. "Why didn't you tell me everything about Aaron's suicide?"

"Okay, Cissy," he began, "I know Dinah ran her mouth to you. And I'm not saying she lied. But, Cissy, the situation with Michaels was intense. He was fucking dangerous. And not just to you and Zelda, but to all of us. House did what he needed to do to keep all of us alive and safe. Safe. I have no problems with anything he said or did."

Greg spoke earnestly, and I new he spoke sincerely. But . . . "If everything my dear doctor did was acceptable, then why did _you_ not tell me everything Dinah told me?"

"Because I _knew_ you'd get upset. _You_ weren't there. _You_ couldn't understand without experiencing the fear in that office. Even Dinah wasn't there the whole time. I _know_ she was afraid; he!!, Cissy, _I _told you _I_ was afraid. And House is, admittedly, a master manipulator. No doubt. But _we_ needed him. Cissy, without him, we might all have died. I'm not shitting you."

Greg was trying his best to persuade me. He swung the truck onto the paved path through the old cemetery and stopped adjacent to our family plot. We got out and walked together, slowly, to the freshly covered grave. I knelt down and touched the blocks of sod; I don't know why I felt the need to touch it. I wanted to be near her.

"She picked out a flat stone. Dark marble. She wanted a bible verse on it. Daddy knows which one if you're interested," Greg said quietly.

He stood beside me. Awkwardly. Flowers were clustered at the head of the space. I walked a few yards to the left where my maternal grandmother was buried. Florine Gunn Gregory. Her stone was flat. Dark marble. On it was this verse: "If we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord." Romans 14:8.

"She'll have the same verse as her mother," I said. "That's enough. Let's go."

Without a word, we returned to the truck and drove back home. After putting some stew on to heat for Greg (as I had promised), I told him and Daddy goodbye. Blue Eyes already had the convertible loaded with my luggage and his mess. We left for the airport in more silence.

He stayed by my side through the check-in procedure. I asked him again, "Are you sure you're going to be all right driving alone?"

"Of course, Miss Daisy," he answered me. He hadn't called me by a fictional name in quite a while. I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Thank you," I told him.

He kissed me lightly and hugged me before hurrying me onto my plane. I left Alabama with the picture of him, leaning heavily on his cane, solemn-faced and alone at the departure desk.


	29. Chapter 29: Why Do Drunks Make Calls?

Chapter Twenty-nine: Why Do Drunks Make Phone Calls?

Jim's warm, brown eyes and warm, toothy smile greeted me at the airport. He hugged me.

"I am so sorry about everything," he whispered into my hair.

"Do you know about Aaron, that is, Dr. Michaels?" I asked.

He nodded as he led me to the luggage carousel. "House called me. He's worried about you."

"How is he?"

"He sounded okay. Reserved, but okay." Jim's voice was strained.

"You're worried about him," I accused.

"I'll be glad when he gets here so I can talk with him," he admitted.

We gathered my bags and piled them into Jim's car for the drive to the townhouse.

"Zelda's okay?" I asked.

"I've checked on her everyday. She's gaining weight like an athlete in training. Do you want to stop by the hospital and see her?"

"Yes, if you don't mind. I know it's late . . ."

"I'd be happy to take you there," he said.

As glad as I was to see Jim and as excited as I was to be heading to hold Zelda, I was still preoccupied with my worries about Blue Eyes. I was exhausted, so I told myself not to jump to any conclusions about him or about his emotions and motives. My own emotions were the troublesome ones, the contemplation of which I couldn't escape.

My milk wouldn't let down, not even with Zelda's energetic sucking. She seemed larger than when I had left, and more alert. Her pale hair had a reddish cast and her eyes were still an unknown darkness. The nurse brought me a bottle, and I held it while Zelda ate, hungry and strong. Tears escaped my eyes; I knew she would be my only child, and I wept for the loss of the ability to nourish her. I watched as the tiny droplets dripped onto her perfect face. I looked at the cameo ring on the hand holding her bottle. One day I would give it to her. I wouldn't wait until I was dead to pass on a thing of beauty. I wanted to give her, every day, the beauty I had missed. I wanted her to always know of her own value and her own, immutable, beauty.

Jim waited for me in his office. I stopped just outside the cracked door, wiping my eyes, because I heard his voice. He was on the phone; I didn't want to interrupt. I started to walk away when something Jim said caused me to stop.

"House. You're drunk. Go on to sleep," Jim said sternly.

There was a pause before Jim continued.

"Don't do something stupid just because you're afraid of how you're feeling."

I was rooted to my spot, unable to walk away.

"Go to sleep, House. We'll talk when you get here."

I heard Jim replace the phone receiver. Since my days as a nursing mother had just ended, I didn't bother to disguise my unhappy demeanor. I knocked lightly on the open door and walked inside.

Jim looked up from his desk, his mouth set in a grim line. "Audra. How's Zelda?"

"Refusing to nurse. It appears my days as a wetnurse are over."

He hurried around his desk to wrap me in a friendly hug. I didn't mean to start crying again, but I couldn't control it.

"Oh, hell, Jim. I'm getting your jacket all wet," I sobbed as I pulled away from him.

"Let's go home, to the townhouse," he said as he guided me into the hall. "I've been staying there while you were gone. Would you mind if I continued staying there a while longer?"

I laughed. "Jim, you would make me very happy if you continued staying at the townhouse. Honestly."

As soon as Jim had carried in my bags, I took a hot shower, and he made hot chocolate, lacing it heavily with rum and crème de cacao. I curled up on the edge of the sofa and sipped it. It was near midnight.

"Audra," Jim started quietly, "would you mind if I asked you something personal?"

"Feel free, Jim."

"Well, you've had a traumatic time these last several months. Have you considered seeing a therapist? I'm not trying to offend you, here, but you've lost a lot of weight, and I know you don't sleep much. I was just thinking . . ."

I interrupted him. "You're right, Jim. I hadn't really thought about it, but I haven't been feeling particularly chipper lately. I'll call Dr. Castillo for an appointment tomorrow. I'm sure she can refer me to someone. Unless you have a suggestion?"

Jim shook his head. "I think Angela would be the best person to advise you."

My cell phone started vibrating and playing Black Oak Arkansas's "Jim Dandy," which was the ringtone for Blue Eyes.

Before I answered, Jim said, "I'll go to bed while you talk to him."

I smiled in farewell and answered the call.

"Where're you?" he slurred. He was drunk.

"Are you okay? Blue Eyes, you're not driving, are you?" I panicked.

"No. In bed. No you."

"You need to go to sleep."

"Are ya mad a' me 'bout the perv?"

"No, Blue Eyes. Now, please go to sleep. Please?"

"D'ya still love me?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. I figured he wouldn't remember the exchange, much less my answer, in the morning, so I let my heart seize control.

"Yes, Blue Eyes, I love you."

"Why?" He just couldn't leave it alone; he had to pick at that scab.

"Because you're caring and funny and . . . "

"And a god in bed."

I laughed. "Yes, for all of those reasons and many more. But go to sleep now, okay?"

"Okay. Buh I need you here for sleeping." His voice trailed off and the call disconnected.

I finished my lukewarm chocolate and climbed into my familiar bed, although I was alone for the first time in awhile. I didn't like it at all. I wanted Blue Eyes. And, for the first time, I considered that I was, really and truly, in love with him.

Jim had been right; I wasn't sleeping well. I was up and showered long before he headed to the kitchen. I had already made the coffee, but he offered to cook my breakfast. I declined.

"I want to go see Zelda before I descend on the university. I suspect today will be a day of battles."

Jim smiled encouragingly at me. "Go get 'em, Tiger."

I laughed at his use of Blue Eyes' nickname for me. "Do you know when he thinks he'll make it back here?"

"He said he was aiming for tonight, but that will be a long drive."

I hugged Jim and kissed him farewell on the cheek. "I'll beat you home, so I'll take care of the cooking," I told him.

"Audra," he stopped me. "Call Dr. Castillo. If she can see you this afternoon, go and don't worry about supper. I can always whip up something."

I turned back and embraced Jim with all my strength. "You are such a wonderful friend," I cooed. "Jim, do you think Blue Eyes could remember something I said last night?"

"While drunk?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you say?"

I looked away. "Nothing important, Jim. I'd better run." And I ducked out the door before he could question me further.

Zelda took to her bottle with an energetic zeal. Dr. Chase dropped by to tell me she was making progress and could, with any luck, go home by the end of February. A month away. I left her in a hopeful, excited mood. I needed to find a carseat.

I got to my office before Cindy or Troy. On my desk, next to the orchid Jim had given me for the program's debut, was a container with five flowering spikes of white symphony orchids. They were exquisite in their perfection, gracefully fanned out in an arch over their simple, green enameled container. I unclipped the card and read it:

Dear Audra,

I offer you my sympathy on the loss of your mother. Rather than send you an arrangement for the funeral, I elected to help you celebrate the life you still have to live as you raise your darling daughter. She and you are every bit as beautiful as these precious flowers.

David

I appreciated the gift, but I wondered if he had chosen orchids because he had seen the ones Jim had given me. Was he, needlessly, competing with Jim? I was greatly amazed at the lack of rationality of men. I was also, now suspicious of what role David had played in my program during my absence.

I sat at Cindy's desk and checked the online classes. All of the writing modules had been updated and graded. Everything, in fact, looked perfect. I was sitting there, my chin in my hand and lost in thought, when Cindy and Troy came in together, laughing and giggling.

"Ms. Jeffrey," Cindy said with concern, "How are you?"

I got up to give her back her seat. "I'm fine, Cindy. How have things been going here?"

Troy answered. "I've continued updating the writing modules and grading the completed ones as you directed." He hesitated a moment.

"What is it, Troy? Go on," I encouraged.

Cindy, acting as the mother hen, said, "Ms. Jeffrey, Dr. Mebane has been stopping in regularly. We tried to keep your door locked, but he always had an excuse for getting in there. Troy and I are a little concerned about what he might have been doing."

"What excuses did he use for getting into my office?" I asked.

"He told us he needed to keep an accurate record of the hits on your writing modules. We offered to give him the updated numbers we keep, but he said he had to check them himself. He acted as if he didn't trust us," Troy answered defensively.

"_I _trust you, Troy, and that's all that matters. This program doesn't answer to Dr. Mebane. It answers directly to Dr. Jacobs. Let me get into my office and see if I can figure out what he was up to. If you two have any ideas, please, please tell me. Everything between us is in confidence."

They both nodded at me, obviously reassured.

I spent several hours checking and rechecking the use of my computer, but I could find no evidence David had entered any files other than those having to do with the online developmental program. Nevertheless, I had a very uneasy feeling about his snooping in my computer. I started glancing around the office, looking for something, anything, he could have snooped through. I didn't see anything. Cindy and Troy left for lunch, promising to bring me a salad, and I moved the white orchid to Cindy's desk; I didn't want to keep it in my office.

I had just accessed my research files on my computer when David walked in.

"Welcome back," he said smoothly. He was still handsome, smiling and familiar.

"Thank you, David. And thanks for the orchid. It's lovely."

He glanced around the room. "Yes, the orchid. Where did you hide it?"

I smiled politely. "I moved it to Cindy's desk to show it off. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," he said, still smiling. He sat in one of the chairs before my desk. "I trust everything went well in Alabama?"

"Yes. It was sad, of course, but it was a good trip."

"Well," he continued, "it is good to have you back. I tried to stop in periodically to offer whatever assistance I could to your staff, but they appeared to have everything well in hand."

"Yes, David, they told me you made yourself available for them. Quite frequently, in fact."

He shifted slightly in his chair. "I know how important this program is to you. I didn't want anything to go awry."

Awry. An interesting word.

"I was wondering," David began, leaning forward in his chair, "if you were interested in seeing Tom Stoppard's new play, _The Coast of Utopia_?"

"The one on Broadway?" I stuttered.

He laughed. "Yes, the very one. I happen to have two tickets for a Saturday night performance in two weeks. I was waiting on your return to invite you. Since he is one of the playwrights you work with . . ."

Tom Stoppard. Broadway. My mind had ceased functioning.

"Tom Stoppard?" I repeated.

"Breathe, Audra," David coaxed, chuckling. "I'm serious. It's for real."

"_The Coast of Utopia_? With the Tony Award winners? Not some high school production?"

"The real thing, Audra. And I have reservations at the Ritz-Carlton Central Park."

My mind hiccupped. "Spend the night? Overnight?"

He laughed good-naturedly. "Of course. The play won't get out until late, and we'll want to go somewhere fabulous for an after-theatre dinner. Spending the night is the only sensible thing to do."

I _worshipped_ Tom Stoppard. I had been toying with various articles on his plays, but to be offered the opportunity to actually see a Broadway production of one – I was seduced. I was almost willing to prostitute myself for the opportunity, which is what appeared to be necessary.

"Consider it a congratulation weekend for your article."

My article on _Butley_ would, indeed, be published that very week. My first published article.

"David, I'm breathless. I don't know what to say." I was stalling for time.

"I know a lot depends on Zelda and her health, so I won't demand an answer today, but at least promise me you'll think about it?"

"Yes," I answered too quickly. "Yes, David. I _so_ appreciate your invitation. If you could let me think about it . . ."

He rose to leave. "Of course, Audra. Think. But I sincerely hope you'll be my companion on this adventure."

"Oh, David, you have dangled the Holy Grail in my face. I'm not sure I have much choice."

"Good," he said as he went through my door. "I'll check on you tomorrow."

I was overwhelmed. David was clever; he knew the way to my writing modules was through my love of playwrights and plays.

Troy entered bearing a tuna salad. "For you, my teacher," he sing-songed.

"Oh, Troy, thanks." I took the bag and motioned for him to have a seat. "I want to ask you a question, but I want you to be completely honest."

He nodded dutifully.

"When Dr. Mebane was here, while I was in Alabama, were you ever worried about what he was doing? I mean, did you have any concerns about his mucking around?"

Troy, always compliant around me, wiggled uncomfortably in the same chair David had just occupied. "Ms. Jeffrey, to be frank, I don't know what he was doing on your personal computer. It's none of my business, but anything we did with the program was accessible if he knew your password."

Now I had my clue. David would have had to secure my password, which wasn't readily available. I dismissed Troy and considered any possible indiscretions by David. I finally glanced at my watch and called Dr. Castillo. Fortuntely, kindly, she took me call.

"How are you, Audra?" she asked in her professional voice.

"Dr. Castillo, I have some issues I feel I need to discuss with you." Even as I talked to her, I began tearing. "Zeld has rejected my breast once I returned from my mother's funeral." I couldn't continue.

"Audra, can you come by here around five?"

I agreed eagerly.

After a tearful conversation with Dr. Castillo, I trusted her prescriptions of Wellbutrin and Klonopin. She also prescribed Ambien for sleep on a limited trial.

"Audra, let me know if you have any unusual side effects from the Ambien. It will take a few weeks to guage how successful the Wellbutrin will be."

I nodded to Dr. Castillo and headed home.

By the time I made it home, I entered to the smells of chicken breast roasting on the Viking grill.

"Jim," I said as I inhaled the delicious aromas, "whom are you cooking for?"

"Just you, Audra," he replied, a pleased smile on his boyish face.


	30. Chapter 30: And He Doesn't Show Up

Chapter Thirty: And He Doesn't Show Up

"You're trying to fatten me up," I accused him.

"Just trying to keep us healthy," he countered. "Did you get a chance to see Dr. Castillo."

I plopped my bag of medicine on the kitchen table. "I have Wellbutrin and Klonopin for daily use, and Ambien for sleep. And she gave me the name of a therapist. I wanted to see if you knew her before I called her." I dug through my purse for the business car. "A Dr. Marion Murphy. Are you familiar with her?"

"She's very well known and highly regarded. I'm sure Angela told you she specializes in treating women who have been the victims of violent incidents."

I nodded. "You think we'd get along?"

"I don't know her personally, but I think she's a good person to start with. You need to talk about your experiences with a professional counselor."

He was right, of course, and I knew it. However, I wanted to just continue hiding the past events, pushing them away with the demands of daily life. I didn't want to examine my feelings about the rape, much less Aaron's suicide. And I certainly didn't want to have to confront Blue Eyes' possible complicity in that death.

"Audra," Jim said, interrupting my ruminating, "you haven't said much about what happened to Dr. Michaels. Why don't you tell me?"

I sat at the kitchen table as he poured both of us a glass of pinot grigio. "I thought you talked to Blue Eyes about it?"

"He told me, briefly, what happened – that Dr. Michaels had committed suicide. And he said you had been injured."

I touched my stitches reflexively. "He attacked me at the funeral home. I was in the hospital when Aaron killed himself. Blue Eyes, Greg, and my aunt's girlfriend, Dinah, were there."

"And they witnessed it?"

"Yes," I answered as I sipped my wine.

Jim continued chopping vegetables for a large salad. "How do you feel about his death? He is, after all, Zelda's father."

"No," I said. "Zelda has me. She doesn't need anyone else."

"House is rather attached to her."

"I don't know. Jim, do you think he'll be here tonight?"

"You miss him, don't you, Audra?"

"I know you've been married several times, but have you ever been head-over-heels in love?"

He stopped his dinner preparations and studied my face. "I thought so, at the time. Now, in retrospect, maybe not. Why do you ask?"

"I've never been in love before."

"But you are now?"

"I know you're Blue Eyes' best friend, but I'd prefer you not tell him. I'm not yet sure how to deal with my feelings for him. But, Jim, I really think I'm in love with him."

He returned to his salad. "You've been in love with him for a while now, Audra. That's no secret."

"Do you think Blue Eyes is aware of it?"

"I think he knows you're fond of him. I'm not sure he'd be comfortable knowing the depth of your emotions; in the past, fear of relationships has kept him from letting anyone get close."

"Except Stacy," I said.

"Yes," he agreed. "She has been the exception."

He brought the chicken, salad, and a basket of warm rolls to the table. We ate in silence.

Finally, Jim said, "Why don't you call House? Find out where he is. How close."

"You know I can't do that. But _you_ could," I countered.

"Audra," he drawled, "I do not want to check up on House for you."

"Yeah, I know. I didn't really think you would. What's that song? 'The waiting is the hardest part?'"

He smiled. "That would be Tom Petty, I think."

We cleaned up the kitchen. Jim said, "I hope you didn't mind, but I moved my things into the upstairs bedroom." Mother's room. "I put all of Zelda's things in the extra downstairs room. The crib and all of its accoutrements."

"That was thoughtful of you. Do you mind being in Mother's old room?"

"Actually, I kind of like it. I miss her. I really developed a fondness for her while she was here."

I touched his arm. "You were so good to her, Jim. You really brightened up her last days."

"I don't know about that. She never understood how many people cared about her. She was an unhappy woman."

"Does she remind you of Blue Eyes in that way?" I asked.

He considered. "House certainly has his miserable side, but he's capable of astounding kindnesses. I've seen him go to great lengths for his patients."

"I guess I fall into that category."

"Initially, I'd agree. But there's more now. Have you looked around here? He has bits of his life scattered all over this townhouse. Sheet music for the piano. Favorite cds. Books he reads and rereads. And the place is littered with his clothes. He's slowly, sneakily, moving in."

Jim opened the cabinets and retrieved two very large brandy snifters and a bottle of Courvoisier. He poured us each generous portions. "Care to join me in the den?"

I followed dutifully.

We sat and sipped companionably. Finally, I asked, "Did Blue Eyes tell you about talking to Aaron before he committed suicide?"

"What are you asking me, Audra?"

"Oh, Jim. This is so difficult. My aunt's girlfriend, Dinah, said Blue Eyes convinced Aaron to commit suicide. She even went so far as to say he asked Aaron if he had a gun and then suggested he get it so he could 'do the right thing.' She placed Aaron's suicide squarely on Blue Eyes' shoulders." Unbidden, I began tearing up again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Audra, but this is the man who raped you, attacked you in the funeral home, and then threatened both your life and the life of your daughter?"

"You are, as always, correct, Jim."

He tipped his snifter back to get a taste. "And you object to, to what? To Aaron's suicide? I also seem to remember the man was actively hallucinating and psychotic at the time of his death?"

"Jim, I feel guilty."

"Because . . . "

"Because," I answered in a strong voice, "I wanted him dead. I wanted him to no longer be a threat to my life or to Zelda's. I'm happy if Blue Eyes was the reason I no longer have to fear that bastard."

"And you're guilty because . . ."

"Jim, I've never been the 'beloved daughter' of anyone. I've never been coddled or protected. But, if Blue Eyes put himself at risk to protect me and my daughter . . ."

"It all comes back to love, then."

I looked into his dark eyes. "Yes. Unfortunately, it does."

"So, House is not in disfavor because he may have instigated the demise of Michaels?"

"I know I haven't seen the therapist yet, and perhaps you can tell me if I'm ill beyond repair, but I wanted, dreamed, of his dying. Once I realized his identity, I lived in fear he'd learn about Zelda and try to take her. Do you have any idea the relief I felt when Blue Eyes listed himself as her father?"

"I can only imagine."

"When do you think he'll get here?" I asked again.

"Why don't you call him?"

"No," I stubbornly refused. "I'll wait."

The waiting went from one snifter of brandy to three. My eyes were closing, and I was listing heavily to the right side. "Jim, why don't you go on to bed? I'll wait up."

He checked his watch. "I don't want to leave you, Audra, but I do have a consultation in the morning. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Of course. I'll put on some old movies and wait up."

Jim, reluctantly, went to bed. I slipped _Bull Durham_ into the dvd player and watched, curled up on the end of the sofa. When that ended, I put on _Four Weddings and a Funeral_. Next, I watched _The Queen_. _Bridget Jones' Diary_ was just ending as the first traces of dawn creeped over the horizon. My untouched bottle of Ambien stared me, defiantly, in the face. By the time the second _Bridget Jones' Diary _was ending, Jim was quietly fussing in the kitchen, making coffee.

"Where is he?" I demanded of the befuddled oncologist.

"Have you been up all night?"

"Did he call you?" I demanded. Sleep deprivation was not my friend.

"No, Audra. Maybe he stopped on the road and spent the night."

"Please, Jim, call him," I begged.

I imagine my distraught appearance is what finally swayed Jim. He went upstairs to place the call. His face was grim as he descended the stairs.

"Well?" I yelled.

"He got in late. He's at his apartment," Jim answered quietly.

I turned and walked into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

Jim, being the gentleman he was, knocked on my door. I refused to answer. Finally, violating even his own mores, he cracked the door.

"Audra?"

"Fuck off," I screamed as I washed my face in my adjoining bathroom.

Jim walked into the bedroom. "Audra, don't judge him by . . ."

He didn't get to finish because I stormed out of my bathroom, face scrubbed and hair pulled back in an unattractive scrunchy. "Don't judge him by _what_? Jim, he asked me night before last if I still loved him. But he didn't bother to come here when he got into town? With my damn car? Jim, you may love him as a friend and a colleague, but you've encouraged me to consider him as more than just my former doctor. So, how can you possibly justify his behavior last night?"

He looked abject. "I can't. But, as a favor, give me a chance to talk to him before you assault him. Please?"

I was without sleep and, frankly, caring little about anyone's feelings, not even Jim's. "You'd better get to him before I do, Jim, because he has a lot to answer for."

"I know, Audra," he placated.

I fled back into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I heard my bedroom door close just as I undressed and stepped into the spray. I was maddeningly offended Blue Eyes hadn't come straight to my townhouse, but, on consideration, was that just an assumption I had made based on our conversation – the conversation when he was drunk? I had betrayed, admitted, my own emotions; had I revealed too much of myself, endangering the delicate balance we had established? Had I chased him to his own abode in avoidance of me?

I was late for a lecture to an auditorium of history students where I would introduce them to the brilliant writing assistance we could provide them, so I hurried straight to Princeton without going by to see Zelda. I had three lectures to give that morning, in fact, so it was lunchtime when I finally made it to my office. Cindy had a tuna salad sandwich waiting for me.

"Cindy, you are so wonderful," I complimented as I tore into the food. "Anything going on here?"

"Troy is in the conference room tutoring one of the students you lectured this morning."

"Oh, score!" I cried with delight. "Anything else?"

"Dr. Jacobs wants to meet with you, so I scheduled him for Monday morning at eight. Is that all right?"

"Sure, Cindy. Did the good doctor say what was on his mind?"

Cindy shook her head and went back to her desk. I checked on the writing modules as I ate, updating a few and adding new reading selections to some. Overall, the online students appeared to be making progress.

Around two, the lack of sleep caught up with me, and I decided to run by the hospital and see Zelda before going home to collapse. I fed Zelda her bottle, searching for subtle changes in her face, anxiously attempting to divine any resemblance to Aaron. Her tiny fingers curled around my index finger; I wiggled the finger she clasped to see if she'd relent and let go, but she held on determinedly. She was going to be a stubborn little lady. Headstrong. I could see the signs.

When I finally returned my daughter to her crib, I headed for Jim's office. I wanted to clear the air. Jim was the last person I wanted to be arguing with. As I approached his office, the door cracked, I heard him talking. I stopped; I thought he was on the phone again. Of course, I listened, unseen, again.

"I don't understand what you were thinking. You had to have known she was waiting up for you," Wilson scolded.

I assumed he was on the phone with Blue Eyes; however, I was shocked when I heard a responding voice.

"Wilson, remember when, after the infarction, they wanted to amputate my leg? Even Stacy was trying to convince me to let them remove it. She asked me if I would give my leg to save her life," Blue Eyes told Jim with obvious emotion.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her that, of course, I would gladly give my leg for her. But later, when we hooked up during her marriage, Mark came to me and begged me to let her go. He pulled himself out of his wheelchair, undoing countless hours of agonizing physical therapy, just to prostrate himself before me. That's why I told Stacy to stay with Mark."

"You're not making sense, House. What do the two . . ."

Blue Eyes interrupted heatedly, "Don't you see? Mark was willing to risk harm to himself, not to mention humiliating himself, to try to keep Stacy. I would never have done what Mark did, and I realized I had lied when I had told Stacy I would give up my leg to save her life; I never would have."

"Okay. So, you don't have it in you to sacrifice yourself physically for someone. I don't see what this has to do with Audra at all," Jim said.

"Because, when I saw Michaels, knowing he had sent Audra to the hospital for the second time, and heard him threatening further harm to both her and Zelda, I knew I would kill him with my bare hands if I needed to. I was willing to do anything, _anything_, to make sure he could never get near either of them again. Sure, I manipulated him, but I did it knowing it could backfire and take me down, too. I didn't care about my life; I _only_ cared about theirs."

I heard Jim expel a deep breath. "You love her. And now you're scared."

"Don't be stupid. I'm not scared. But I don't like the way I'm feeling. That's why I called Stacy."

I leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

"You did what?" Jim exclaimed.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a wad. She and Mark have signed their divorce papers, so she's a free agent now."

"House, you're missing the point. You just admitted deep feelings for Audra, but you're going to date your _ex-girlfriend_? Are you suicidal? Insane?" Jim yelled.

"I was in love with Stacy, and you know how badly that turned out. Why would I continue in a relationship with someone who has even more power over me than Stacy had? I don't need to open myself up to more hurt."

"Oh, fuck," I thought.

"So, you're going to alienate Audra just because you're afraid she might, what, return your feelings?" Jim asked. He sounded irritated. "You're going to run away from something good – a chance to have a relationship _even better_ than the one with Stacy. You make no sense."

"Audra doesn't have to know I'm seeing Stacy," Blue Eyes suggested.

"If you're hinting I lie to her . . ."

"I'm not hinting anything. I just don't see that you need to run back to her tattling. You need to mind your own business."

"House, Audra is my friend, too. I don't want her to be hurt because you're behaving like an ass."

"Then be a tattle tale."

"That's precisely what you want me to do, isn't it?" Wilson accused. "You want me to tell Audra you're seeing Stacy so she'll back away from you. You're too fucking cowardly to do it yourself."

I turned away from the office door and walked, slowly, to my truck. I needed to get home. Of course, when I pulled up to the townhouse, I saw Mother's convertible parked on the curb out front. I hurried to my bedroom, washed down a couple of the Klonopin Dr. Castillo had prescribed for me, and curled up in my bed, alone, praying for sleep. Praying for salvation.


	31. Chapter 31: Good Wine and Bad Meds

Chapter Thirty-one: Good Wine and Bad Meds

I heard Jim rattling around the kitchen around seven. I got up and splashed my face with cold water. When I joined Jim in the kitchen, he immediately handed me a glass of chilled white wine. He was roasting Cornish game hens, cooking wild rice, and baking a mélange of zucchini, onions, garlic, and olive oil. I took my usual seat at the kitchen table, and he handed me some sliced peppers and hummus for an appetizer.

He gestured to my Elvis Costello t-shirt and smiled. "Cool shirt."

"Thanks." I twisted my wine glass and stared at my hands, deliberating about what to say. Finally, I began. "Jim, David Mebane has invited me to a play in New York. Next Saturday."

Jim hesitated in his dinner preparations. "You're going to New York with Ph.D. guy? To see a play?"

"I was thinking about it," I answered.

"Wasn't he trying to steal your writing program?"

"He wasn't behaving exactly ethically. You are correct."

"But you want to go off to New York with him?" Jim asked, still showing little comprehension.

"He has two tickets to the Tom Stoppard play. I've been working on a series of articles on Stoppard for my independent study this summer, so seeing the play would be a great help as well as being a hell of a lot of fun."

"House would say Ph.D. guy has only invited you because he wants to get you naked."

I threw a slice of pepper at Jim. "Blue Eyes isn't here, so he certainly doesn't get to have any input in this conversation."

"Would you like for him to be here?"

I answered, "I'd like for him to be a normal human being instead of a royal jackass, but that's not going to happen, either."

"Then tell me this: would you be going to the play because you wanted to enjoy it with Ph.D. guy, or because you wanted House to be jealous?"

I put my forehead down on the table. I sighed. "It doesn't appear to me he'll have any knowledge of anything I do. He seems to no longer be talking to me."

"Why don't you call him?"

Jim's suggestion galvanized me. I checked my watch as I moved out of my chair. "I'll be right back – don't hold the food."

"Where are you going?" Jim asked as I grabbed my coat.

I opened the front door, hoping the convertible's keys were in it, and said, "I'm going to see Blue Eyes."

As I closed the door behind me, I heard objections from Jim. The keys were, indeed, in the Mercedes, so I took off for Blue Eyes' apartment in my deceased mother's car.

I pounded on his apartment door. I could hear a shuffling and a muffled, "I'm coming." When he opened the door, he was wearing a pressed, button-down, pale pink shirt and his better pair of jeans. His eyes grew round as he recognized me.

"Ummm," he stammered, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh, move," I ordered as I shoved my way past him. A bottle of red wine, opened, graced the coffee table next to a plate of hors d'oeuvres and a very elegant pair of wine glasses. "Oh, shit! She's coming over, isn't she?" I turned and stared into his startled, sky-blue eyes.

"Who? What? Why are you here?" he stuttered.

I flapped my arms in agitation. "You're waiting on Succubus, aren't you? Even though you know you won't be able to make it work with her, and even though you know you'd rather be with me, you're still going to see her." I charged him, then, and he backed up until he slammed into his piano, leaving him nowhere else to go. I was so close we were almost touching. Very quietly, I said, "Maybe I have no right to expect anything from you, but you are being unfair to Stacy if you allow her to think you can care about her the way she cares about you. Or the way you care about me."

"The way I care about you?" he responded. "And just what way would that be?"

I snapped, "Don't be cute."

He lifted the corner of his mouth into a shy smile. "Can't help it, Tiger."

I made the initial movement to slap him, but he caught my wrist in his large hand and used it to pull me up to receive his kiss. And his kiss was far from tender; his lips assaulted mine, attacking and devouring. I tried to back up, but his right arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me up against him. I lifted my right leg and slammed my foot down, hard, into the instep of his good leg. He yowled, letting go of me, and reached for his injured foot. I stepped back.

"We're not going to get angry with each other and then just solve it by falling into bed together. Not this damn time. And I'm insulted you would even try that," I lectured him angrily.

The sound of slow, rhythmic clapping pulled our attention away from each other and to the open door. Blue Eyes looked up, and I wheeled around to see Stacy, perfectly composed, in the doorway.

"Oh, fuck," Blue Eyes muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

Stacy said, as she walked towards us with perfectly placed steps, "What a charming picture you two make. Tell me, Greg, did you invite me just so I could catch your peep show? If so, you made a mistake. _I_ was never interested in competing for you."

"I'll just go now," I uttered in a quiet monotone, but Blue Eyes grabbed my arm and held me in place.

He answered her, "I had no idea Tiger was going to show up. It was neither planned nor anticipated. Does that help, Stacy?"

She shook her perfectly formed head. "Not really, Greg. Were you serious about our trying to get back together, or was that just something you said to get _me_ into bed?"

"Oh, great," I groused. "You fight with me to have sex, but you dress up and ply her with wine and food for sex. I'm getting the short end of the stick."

"Shut up," Blue Eyes growled at me. He took a hobbled step towards Stacy. "In the first place, I didn't invite you here with the sole purpose of having sex with you. Although, if that had happened . . ."

Stacy's dark eyes flashed in a perfect spark of anger. "It really doesn't matter why you invited me here. I'll be dammed if I'll stay while you and your, your, _concubine _sort through your mating rituals."

"Concubine?" I sputtered. "Is she calling me a . . . Are you calling me a concubine? Because, if you are, you should know _I_ know what that means." I turned to Blue Eyes. "Are you gonna let your crazy ex call me that?"

Stacy, emitting an exasperated yelp, turned and stomped, perfectly, out the door.

"Oh, hell," Blue Eyes said as he limped to the couch and slumped onto it. "What is wrong with you? Do you have to fuck everything up?"

"What is wrong with _me_? You're the one who can't get his priorities straight." I took a deep breath. "I didn't want to go to New York with David, but now, after this debacle, I think I'll accept his invitation."

He looked up at me disgustedly. "You're going to New York with that lying Ph.D. guy? Do you think you're going to make me jealous with that idiot?"

"No. But maybe, just maybe, if I can enjoy myself with someone besides you, it won't hurt so much when you behave like a cocksucker." I turned, grabbed the bottle of wine and the two glasses, and headed for my car.

Jim was in the den, nervously flipping television channels, when I flew into the kitchen. I poured the pilfered wine into the two pilfered glasses and took them to join him. "You want one of these?" I asked irritatedly.

He took a glass and asked, "You had a run-in with Stacy, didn't you?"

"You knew she would be there? And you didn't tell me?"

He shook his head as he drank his wine. "I knew House had invited her over to talk. And, for the record, I tried to stop you."

I guzzled half my wine, which was a waste of a very good vintage. "He doesn't really want her. I know he doesn't."

"House is incapable of allowing anything to progress smoothly. He always needs to ruin a good thing. You need to persevere and wait him out. I think he'll realize how he feels about you in time."

"Well, just bless his heart," I responded. "Jim, you don't honestly expect me to feel sorry for the bastard just because the woman of his dreams had his thigh muscle removed while he was in a coma, do you? That deal was done years ago. They've tried twice, if I understand all I've heard, to reunite, but he's backed out both times. It's time for him to grow up and move forward." I finished the wine in my glass and brought in the bottle from the kitchen. I poured some for both of us before continuing. "But, Jim, if he is such a damn baby he has to keep running back to mama Stacy, then maybe she's exactly who he deserves, and I'm too fucking good for him."

Jim said, "Did you tell him this?"

"I told him all he needed to know," I answered.

Jim went to the kitchen where he opened another bottle of red wine and brought it into the den. He had left the television on a repeat of _America's Next Top Model_.

"Jim, I was just outclassed by Succubus, and now you have me watching a bunch of model-wannabes. Are you trying to persuade _me_ to commit suicide?"

He chuckled as he poured more wine into our glasses. "What makes you so sure Stacy outclassed you?"

"As soon as I left, I'm sure Blue Eyes called her and convinced her to return."

He leaned forward. "Wanna put some money on it?"

I laughed. "A bet? Yeah – twenty bucks says he got her back. You going to find out tomorrow?"

Jim pulled out his cell phone as he answered, "Nope. I'll find out now." He punched in Blue Eyes' number. "House . . . What, am I disturbing something?" He drank more wine as he listened. "Audra came in earlier and locked herself in her bedroom. She didn't say a word about anything. What happened?" Jim winked at me. "Oh, hell, no. She didn't . . . Wine glasses? . . . What are you going to do about Stacy?" As he listened to Blue Eyes' answer, he extended his hand, palm upturned, and wiggled his fingers. I groaned and grabbed my purse. "Maybe you need to rethink your game plan. Audra is a good match for you." I put my twenty in his palm, which he then slipped into his pocket. "Okay, okay. No need to get so cranky. I'll see you tomorrow. 'Nite, House." He closed his phone.

"But he did call her, didn't he?" I asked.

He stretched and answered me slowly. "Nope. He said he wasn't sure who he was less pissed at, you or Stacy, so he decided to drink some scotch and play the piano. You know how he decompresses."

"Are you serious? He didn't call her?"

"He didn't call her."

"Jim, I told him I was going to New York with David," I confessed.

He opened his mouth. "Oh, hell. I bet that wasn't pretty."

"Another bet?" I teased. "He was mad I'd try to make him jealous with David."

"So, are you going to actually go through with the trip?"

I mused, "Yeah, Jim, I think I am. I think I need a different perspective. Maybe David is the person to give that to me."

"Listen, Audra," he began, "if you're really giving up on House . . ."

"Yes?" I asked.

He shook his head and drained his glass. "No. Never mind. I don't know what I was thinking."

I stood up to go to bed. "_I _know what you were thinking, Jim." I winked at him as I walked by.

I headed to the hospital the next morning before Jim was up. Zelda was still thriving. I wiggled her into one of the onesies Blue Eyes had bought her – "Poop is a Palindrome" – and settled her back in her crib. She was nearing four pounds now and looking less fragile. I hurried to the university; I had three lectures that morning to sociology and psychology classes. I didn't even unlock my office door until noon.

"What can I get you for lunch?" Troy promptly asked me as I slumped into my desk chair.

"Egg salad?"

"Okay," Troy answered and scurried out.

Cindy entered with a handful of phone messages. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but that Dr. Mebane has called for you _every hour_. I wasn't sure what to tell him . . ." she trailed off.

"I'll call him back. Thanks, Cindy."

I took a deep breath before dialing David. "David, this is Audra."

"Audra, I'm just stepping out for a lunch meeting. But I'm glad you called," he answered, sounding flustered.

I spoke rapidly. "I won't keep you. I just wanted to tell you I'd love to go to the play with you next weekend. That is, if the invitation is still open?"

"Oh, great. Wonderful. I need to run – maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow?"

I felt guilty, as if I were betraying Blue Eyes. "Just call me, David. Right now I have nothing planned for tomorrow. Bye."

I put my head in my hands. A weekend ahead without Blue Eyes. I felt tortured. Troy brought me a sandwich; I ate while I checked our posted lessons and read research on Tom Stoppard for my summer independent study. I wondered what plans Jim would have on a Friday evening, so I finally called him.

"Jim, I hope I'm not catching you busy," I began when he answered.

I could hear him sigh. "I always have time for you. What's up?"

"It's a Friday night; I thought you might have plans. And if you don't, I was going to suggest we order pizza. I'll even pick up the beer on my way home."

Jim hesitated before he responded. "I just accepted an invitation out. For dinner. I'm sorry, Audra."

"Blue Eyes?"

"Audra . . ."

"Okay. Have a good evening." I hung up. I had the hospital and Zelda for company, but it wouldn't be much of a distraction. I stared at the phone, willing it to spontaneously combust. I was jealous. The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. I didn't want Jim and Blue Eyes both having plans while I was at home alone. And I especially didn't like the idea of them being together. Without me. Oh, shit.

I sent my employees home and headed for my favorite deli. I ordered a huge lamb gyro with tzatziki sauce, an order of tabouleh, and a six-pack of Mythos lager to go. The townhouse was dark and unfriendly as I carried my food inside. I put on my stretched-out sweatpants and a Graceland t-shirt, then sifted through the DVDs in the house, finally selecting episodes of the British sitcom, _Butterflies_, for my evening. I gorged and laughed and cried. I kept my cell phone on my leg so I would know if it rang. It didn't. Finally, around eleven, I took the Ambien Dr. Castillo had prescribed for sleep. I reminded myself to call the therapist for an appointment on Monday. I fell asleep not knowing when Jim got back.

I slept soundly and late, thanks to the Ambien. I could hear Jim singing as he puttered in the kitchen, and I could smell brewed coffee. I pulled my sweatpants over my panties and slipped my Auburn sweatshirt over the camisole I had slept in. I didn't even brush my teeth; I hurried to the kitchen for coffee.

Jim grinned evilly at me as he poured my coffee. "I'm cooking macadamia nut pancakes and bacon. I hope you're hungry, _Tiger_."

I shot Jim a curious look. "_Tiger_?"

"Last night, when we had our nightcap, you told me I could use House's nickname for you."

I was almost speechless. "We had a drink together last night? When?"

Jim was, then, almost speechless. "You don't remember?"

I carried my coffee to my spot at the table. "I took my Ambien around eleven and went to bed. When did we have this rendezvous?"

"I got in around midnight. You stumbled in from your bedroom and insisted we chat. We each had a snifter of brandy and, well, chatted."

I reached, instinctively, for my chest. "What was I wearing?"

Jim's evil grin quadrupled in wattage.

"Jim, what was I wearing?" I repeated in a much higher octave.

He concentrated on flipping pancakes as he answered. "You had on some baggy, pregnancy panties and a pale green camisole. You really need to buy new, um, underwear." He chuckled naughtily.

"Oh my god," I exclaimed. I covered my face with my hands. "What the hell did I say?"

"We discussed my evening with House," Jim answered as he handed me a plate of food I no longer felt the slightest urge to eat. "Dr. Castillo did tell you somnambulism is a possible side effect of Ambien?"

I groaned. "You know I never read the reams of information that came with all of that medicine. I am such an idiot."

"Don't feel too badly. You didn't say anything too embarrassing, and seeing you practically naked was a joy for me."

"I didn't make an effort to _cover up_?" I asked somewhat incredulously.

Jim gave his naughty laugh again. "Not at all. Nope. _Not at all_."

"What have I done?" I whispered.

"Audra," Jim said, sitting across from me with his pancakes, which he had no difficulty cutting into. "I told you House and I spent the evening at a hockey game – Princeton versus Rutgers – and then at his place eating bad Thai takeout."

"Where were we when we had this, this, conversation?"

Jim actually giggled. "You insisted we sit on the den floor. You were demonstrating your ability to sit cross-legged, Indian-style."

I laid my head on the table. I must have made a pretty sight, everything on display, in my granny panties. Why didn't the earth open up and swallow me whole? Suddenly, I raised my head. "Jim, you mustn't tell Blue Eyes."

"I'm afraid it's too late to keep it a secret. You called him while we were chatting and described the entire scenario to him."

I screamed, "I _what_? Oh, hell. What was his response?"

"I don't think he liked the idea of the two of us, you in your undies and me in nothing but my boxers."

"You only had on _boxers_? Go ahead, kill me now."

"You were charming, Audra. Really. And if House is bothered, then he can do something about it."

"Jim," I said, raising my head slightly, "you didn't engineer this to make Blue Eyes jealous, did you?"

He averted his eyes. "I enjoyed flirting with you, Audra. I know you're not interested in me as anything more than a friend, a good friend, but I'm not too proud to admit I was flattered and attracted. House can deal with that any way he wants."

"Oh, Jim. Darling Jim. I haven't done anything to mislead you or hurt you, have I?" I asked with genuine concern.

"I'm a big boy, Audra. I know where your heart lies. However, if you decide to prance around in a near-naked fashion again, don't expect me _not _to enjoy the view."


	32. Chapter 32: Don't Stand Under the Fan

Chapter Thirty-two: Don't Stand Under the Ceiling Fan

I left my breakfast uneaten and threw my Ambien in the trash as I escaped to my bedroom. I added to my list of Monday chores a call to Dr. Castillo to request an alternative prescription for sleep. I dressed and left to visit Zelda; I went shopping after feeding her because I needed a car seat, and she needed more nightgowns, etc. While driving to the local mall, David called me.

"Hey," he said, "are you free for lunch?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm heading for the mall. Is there somewhere close we can meet?"

"Do you like sushi?"

I smiled. "I love it, and I'm starving. Where?"

"Across the street from the mall is a sushi bar – Edo's. I'll meet you there in half an hour. Is that okay?"

"Great. I can't wait."

He was sitting at a table by a window when I entered the small eatery. He looked collegiate in his rugby shirt and jeans. I couldn't help wishing I could remember how Jim looked in nothing but boxers. He rose when he saw me, pulling out my chair.

"I've ordered for us – I hope you don't mind," he said.

"That's fine." He handed me a Kirin, which I took greedily. "I love this beer. How did you know?"

He smiled. "I just ordered you everything _I_ like."

And he had, indeed, ordered a variety of uramaki. I handed him my wooden chopsticks, and he knew, instinctively, to break them for me. We ate, messily, with our chopsticks and our beer, giggling as we shoved different bits into each other's mouth. I was on my third beer when I realized I was stuffed. I also realized the lunch had been a pleasant escape from the tension I'd felt around Blue Eyes.

"Oh, David, thank you so much. This has been a wonderful lunch," I gushed.

He was handsome with his dark hair and green eyes, and his smile was just the slightest bit off kilter. He said, "I'm delighted you could fit me into your busy schedule."

"I'm going shopping for a car seat and baby clothes. I don't suppose you want to accompany me?"

"Hmmm. Baby clothes. Audra, one more beer and I'd accept."

I laughed at him. "Does that mean we're having another beer?"

"I guess we are."

We had kept our conversation away from literary subjects, but with the last beer David brought up my program. "Before you started your online program, I had begun compiling writing assignments for a textbook specifically geared towards internet courses. Would you be willing to give it a look?"

The uneasy feeling the carefree lunch had dispelled returned with a loud thump. I answered, "Sure, David, I'd be happy to look at your manuscript. Are you proposing we use it in conjunction with the writing modules I've already developed?"

"I'm not suggesting you change your program at all," he replied smoothly. "Of course, if I have anything you _want_ to use, then I'm sure we could work something out."

I suddenly felt as if I were in a business negotiation. I recalled my appointment with Dr. Jacobs first thing Monday morning and decided to ask him about David's "textbook." I finished my beer and grabbed my cell phone.

"Oh, dear. I had my phone off. Dr. Chase at the hospital has been trying to get in touch with me, probably about Zelda. If you don't mind, David, I'll step outside and call him back," I lied.

He nodded nonchalantly. "Go ahead. I'll take care of the bill."

"Of course you will," I thought as I put on my coat and stepped into the chill wind to fake a call to Dr. Chase. When David joined me, I said, "I'm sorry, but Zelda is having a problem with the formula they're giving her. Dr. Chase wants me to come by. I hope you'll forgive me for canceling our shopping trip."

"Audra, you must take care of your daughter. But we are still on for _Utopia_ next Saturday, right?"

I stared at his unchanging smile as I replied, "Definitely. I'm looking forward to it."

I hurried away from him feeling confused about his motives. I wasn't sure if he was courting me or my teaching skills. Rather than go directly to the hospital, I stopped by my university office and checked the writing modules and responses for the three online classes we had going. Everything had been checked and updated according to our syllabus. I spent several hours reading the response comments from the students; they were, largely, positive and enlightening. I printed out the comments to share with Cindy, Troy, and Dr. Jacobs. Before I headed home, I stopped at the hospital and fed Zelda. I honestly believed she smiled at the sound of my voice when I first lifted her from her habitat. I held her until she fell back asleep.

A light snow was beginning to fall when I returned to the townhouse. I didn't see any evidence of Jim, but when I entered the den, I was shocked to see Blue Eyes parked on the sofa watching basketball. Before either of us could say anything, the doorbell rang.

"That's pizza. Can you get it?" he said.

I went to the door; of course, I had to pay for it. I plopped the box on the coffee table and stood in front of the television.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.

"I _was_ watching basketball. Can you get me a beer from the frig?"

"No. Why don't you get us both a beer?"

He got up and went into the kitchen. I turned off the television and sat down in the place he had vacated. He brought two beers back and handed one to me. I stared as he sat down beside me.

"Where is Jim?" I asked him as he opened the pizza box.

Blue Eyes handed me a slice of pizza. "Date. Disappointed?"

"Who does he have a date with?"

He took a bite of his pizza. "He refused to tell me. I thought you might know."

I nibbled on my slice. "I hope he's with Dr. Cuddy. I think he likes her."

"Nope. Not Cuddy. Don't think so."

"And you don't have him staked out to find out who she is?"

He looked at me. "Thought about it, but I decided to check on you instead."

I shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"How do you like Wilson in his shorts?"

I shook my head and answered, "Sorry I called you. I don't remember any of that."

"Sure you don't. You sounded awfully cheerful."

"Wonders of medicine," I replied.

He grinned. "Gonna take some tonight?"

"Bite me," I laughed. "Where's Succubus?"

"Haven't talked to her since you ran her out of my apartment."

"So," I mused, "you thought you'd find her _here_?"

He snorted beer out his nose.

"Oh, nice," I said as I handed him a few napkins.

He wiped his face. "Think I can turn the basketball back on now?"

"Here, let me," I offered as I got up. "Another beer?"

He nodded, his mouth full of pizza. I played waitress and got beer for both of us. It was a beer-full day for me.

"How's Zelda?" he asked.

I smiled. "Have you seen her? She's wearing the onesies you bought her. Four pounds now."

"I fed her lunch yesterday. Chase says she'll be ready to be set free by the end of the month. How're you going to handle that?"

I answered, "My secretary has a sister who will keep her. I haven't met her yet or negotiated her fee. Why – did you have someone to suggest?"

"Cameron's unemployed."

"What? Why?"

He shrugged. "She quit. So did Foreman, but he's staying on to head up his own department. And Chase has moved over to the NICU permanently."

"So, your flunkies have fled. Who do you torture now?"

He looked at me seriously, then moved his eyebrows up and down.

I laughed, "Oh, now I understand why you're over here. You're out of victims."

"_You_ were the one who chased Succubus, I mean Stacy, off."

I smacked him in the arm just as something significant happened with the basketball. He yelled obscenities at the players, and I pouted. My bottom lip went unnoticed.

"Hey," I finally said, "I thought you were flirting with me."

"Huh?" he gulped. "I was? Damn, I lost my place. Where were we?"

I giggled like a damn schoolgirl as he leaned toward me, his arms wrapping around my waist as his tongue licked tomato sauce off my chin. "I love pizza," he growled into my ear.

I squirmed under him as he tried to undo my jeans. I slapped at his hands. "Who gave you permission?"

"I just wanted to see if you had on those big girl panties," he whined. "Mama, may I?"

I giggled; he was tickling me. I reached behind my head to grab a throw pillow, but the quick bastard had my pants unbuttoned and unzipped before I could hit him on the head.

"Oh, my," he whispered. "What do we have here? Someone forgot to wear any panties."

I hit him again. He grabbed the pillow and wrestled it from me. "After Jim made fun of my 'big girl panties,' as you call them, I decided to just go commando."

"My kinda woman," he chuckled as he started trying to pull the jeans off me.

"Hang on there, puddin'. You don't get to remove my pants while you're fully clothed."

He stopped. "Okay. What can I trade for your jeans? My shoes?"

I wiggled my ass right off the sofa and onto the floor. "Let _me_ take care of those fucking shoes," I said as I sat up and grabbed his Nikes. He leaned back and let me, watching while I then removed his socks.

"Okay, Tiger. Your turn. Off with the jeans."

I looked up at him and shook my head. "Your shoes and socks don't even compensate for my lack of panties. What else you offering to shed?"

He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt very slowly, one button at a time. When he finished, he swung it over his head in circles, finally releasing it to fly up into the rotating ceiling fan. As we both watched, dumbfounded, the shirt caught on one of the blades, and the whole contraption started to wobble. Slowly, cartoonishly, the fan dipped away from us and fell from the ceiling, crashing into a huge mirror hanging over the fireplace. The shards fell down, showering the remains of the fan as it came to a bumpy rest on the hearth.

"How heavy was your damned shirt?" I asked.

"Seven more years bad luck," he complained, "just when I had worked off the last sentence."

I turned back to look at him. "You've broken mirrors _before_?"

"Every seven years. Although not usually with my _shirt_." He lifted his foot and shoved the coffee table towards the fan debris, clearing a nice area of the carpet. "When you slip those pants off, I'd advise you to just let them drop."

I sighed, "No shit." I stood up and squirmed just enough to send my jeans to the floor. Blue Eyes immediately pulled his t-shirt off; I snatched it out of his hand. "Let me put that aside, along with my pants."

He grinned, watching as I stepped out of my pants and kicked them onto the coffee table, his shirt following right behind. "I'll trade you my jeans and boxers for your sweater and bra?"

"Deal."

We both stood up and stripped in a modest race. I couldn't get my bra unhooked, so he finally made me stand still and undid it. He fussed, "I _would_ get a woman who can't even get her own bra off."

"And I _would_ get a man who destroys entire rooms."

We made it onto the carpet with me on the bottom. Preliminaries were not needed; we intersected as quickly as we could get the parts to fit, the carpet rubbing places on my backbone and his knees. Just as he had finished the grunting of his orgasm, we both heard the front door close. Blue Eyes looked up. "Uh oh," he groaned.

"Oh my god!" Jim yelled. "I'm blind!"

I tried to look back over my shoulder; however, all I could see was Jim, his hands over his face, backing out of the room.

Blue Eyes chuckled. "We blinded Wilson. How cool are we?"


	33. Chapter 33: When You Thought it Was Safe

Chapter Thirty-three: Just When You Thought it Was Safe to Come Out of the Bedroom

"Get up," I hissed. "Jim is probably permanently impotent after seeing you naked."

"I can believe seeing me naked made him go blind, but I'll be _damned_ if I believe it could make little Jimmy go into early retirement."

"That's not what I meant, you showoff. Blue Eyes, do you think we could please get off the floor and go to bed, please?"

He sat back on his heels and painfully pulled himself back onto the sofa. He looked around for his jeans, finally spying them on the coffee table. I saw him reaching for them, so I grabbed them. He pulled his meds out of the pocket and swallowed two pills. I sat to his right, my hand massaging his thigh. "Would a heating pad help?" I asked.

"I'm fine. Really."

I disagreed, "You're so full of shit. Did Succubus buy that crap?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. She thought I blamed her."

"Didn't you?"

He paused before answering, "Yeah. I didn't want to, but I did."

"So, your meeting with her the other night was, why? For what?"

He looked over my head at the remains of the mirror as he answered, slowly and carefully, "I know what to expect from her. I know what she expects from me. I thought it would be, I don't know – safe."

"Being with me doesn't feel safe for _you_, but being with you doesn't feel safe for _me_, either. I'm probably every bit as frightened as you are."

"Ya think?" he asked, looking down into my eyes. "You're cold." He pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around me, leaving his arm encircling my back as he cradled my head on his shoulder.

I nodded. "If I hadn't interrupted, would you have slept with her?"

"I can't answer that. Most likely. I don't know. You've been like a rock in my shoe since you puked on me in the clinic."

"I'm like a rock in your shoe? You mean like, 'The Princess and the Pea'?" I asked.

He smiled wanly. "You're not a _pea_; you're not even a fucking _pebble_. I can't get you out of my mind. Just when I find a comfortable place, you find a way to irritate me, or to do something I don't know how to handle. You're always there, rubbing a sore spot on my foot."

"Well, bless your heart."

"What does that mean?" he asked skeptically.

I answered, "It's a southern expression that can mean anything from, 'I'm so sorry for you,' to, 'There is nothing else I can say that wouldn't be offensive.'"

"And in this instance?"

"It means, 'Fucking adjust.'"

"You know it turns me on when you order me around," he leered.

I relaxed and laid my arm across his stomach. "Everything turns you on."

"Yeah. I would've thought I'd miss your big girl panties, but that no panty thing is way hotter."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied sarcastically.

"Aw, Mama Audra," he whined, "don't you want to play anymore?"

"Not in this den, I don't."

He pulled me up with him and said, "Let's retire to the bedroom. Should we check on Wilson?"

"Not funny, Blue Eyes."

I woke after a few hours of sleep; Blue Eyes was lying quietly beside me, but he wasn't humming. I whispered, "You're awake?"

"Are you going to New York with that guy?"

I rolled over to look at him. The nightlight in the bathroom provided just enough illumination to reveal the outline and the angles of his long, slender face. "_That_ is keeping you awake?"

"No. But I was wondering about it."

"You don't trust me," I accused as I ran my finger along the inside of his bicep. He shifted to wrap that arm around me, and I rubbed my face against his shoulder.

"I don't trust _him_, and you shouldn't, either."

"Actually, I _don't_. Why don't you want me to go with him?"

He snorted. "Come on, Tiger, don't be stupid."

"I already told him I would. That play is important to my research – I might never have an opportunity like this again."

"Bullshit."

I leaned up on my elbow, and he gazed into my eyes. I said, "You can't say you wouldn't have slept with Stacy, but, yet, you want to keep me tethered to your belt buckle. In what universe does this make sense?"

"The Universe of House."

His hand nudged my head down, and he kissed me. I sighed and reveled in the leisurely attention, but I didn't know, then, what I would do about New York.

We both gave up on sleep as soon as the first shafts of sunlight crawled beneath the curtains and infiltrated the room. I put on coffee and sliced sourdough bread for French toast while Blue Eyes showered. Jim, sheepishly, wandered in wearing a thick bathrobe.

"Am I intruding?" he asked.

I smiled at him. "Of course not. Jim, about last night . . ."

He held up his hand. "Stop. Let's just pretend I never saw, well, anything," he grimaced.

"I'm making French toast, and the coffee is ready. Help yourself."

Jim nodded and poured us both a cup of coffee. "I assume that's . . ." he jerked his thumb towards the bathroom and the shower noises.

"Uh huh. Is this going to be a problem?"

"Not if we can confine our, well, _activities_ to rooms with closed doors. If House is going to be here full-time, then perhaps it's time I moved back into the hotel."

I exclaimed, "No, Jim. I'm being selfish, but I'd rather you not leave unless you just feel things are too miserable for you. As for Blue Eyes, I have no reason to think this is anything but a hit-and-run – no different than before."

"Well, the two of you certainly looked compatible last night."

"I need some advice. You game?" I asked him.

He chose my seat at the table while, uncharacteristically, I cooked. "I'll give it a shot."

"He doesn't want me to go to New York. Should I?"

He sipped his coffee and thought before he answered, "As we've discussed before, a lot depends on the 'why.' I mean, is it worth losing whatever progress you two made last night?" He held out his hands, palms up. "Is seeing this play so important you'd take a chance on alienating him?"

"She might as well go. Odds are she'll alienate me eventually anyway," Blue Eyes said as he limped up behind me.

I whirled around and asked, "How can anyone with a damn cane be so damned quiet?"

"Years of practice," he responded as he poured himself a cup of coffee and took it to the table.

I stared, pleadingly, at Jim, but he just shrugged.

"So, how was your date last night?" Blue Eyes asked him.

"Fine. Just fine."

B.E. trained his attention on Jim with a curious ferocity. He interrogated, "Who was she? And, did _you_ get any?"

I slammed the frying pan on the burner. "Stop gloating. Leave him alone."

"Mama Audra is being very protective of little Jimmy. Wonder why?"

Jim stuttered, "I didn't have a date. I had dinner with Cameron. _Okay_?"

B.E. turned his examining face to me. "And did _Mama Audra_ know?"

"Of course not," I snapped.

"No," Jim cried. "She didn't. She didn't know, House."

I turned towards Blue Eyes, waving the pan in my hand, advancing slowly. "Do you think _everyone_ is conspiring against you? Are you really _that_ pathetically paranoid? Or are you just _that_ narcissistic? My god in heaven, you really take the cake, puddin'." I stopped at the edge of the table; I was, unthinkingly, holding the hot skillet in front of them. Jim scooted back, but B.E. just returned my stare.

"My, Wilson," he drawled while maintaining my gaze, "Miss Jeffrey certainly is angry about something. Think she's jealous of Cameron?"

I screamed, "You are fucking insane!" and hurried into my bedroom, slinging the pan on the stove as I passed by.

I had started to change clothes so I could go to the hospital, but I couldn't rid myself of my anger at Blue Eyes. I strode back down the hall, intending to yell at him some more, when I heard their voices in the kitchen. I assumed my accustomed eavesdropping stance, back against the hallway, and listened.

"Those tickets will cost a fortune, House. You'll have to call a scalper," Jim said.

"Why is she so hot to see something about Europa? Can't I just rent it from Netflix?"

"She writes literary articles about _plays _and their _playwrights_. And it's _Coast of Utopia_ – you might need to know that when you call your scalper."

"I don't suppose it has a traveling version?" Blue Eyes asked hopefully.

"House. You'll need to take her out to eat afterwards, to an elegant restaurant. _And_ get reservations at a nice hotel. Here, take this plate."

They were moving to the eating area, so I scurried back to my bedroom. Surely Blue Eyes wasn't going to try to compete with David?

I escaped without either male noticing my exit. I went to the university first. I called my father; I had been meaning to check up on him.

"How are you, Daddy?"

He chuckled. "I am being bombarded with casseroles and cakes and concert tickets. Am I the only single man in northern Alabama?"

"Maybe you're just the best looking."

"I'm committed to seeing every community theater production in a hundred mile radius for the next six months. You won't believe what your Uncle Raymond did to me yesterday."

"I can't begin to imagine," I replied, smiling.

Daddy continued excitedly, "He set me up on this blind date, your mother just recently deceased, and this, this, _woman_ insisted we go see a local production of the musical, _Oliver_. We get there, and it turns out it's a _children's theater production_. A bunch of third and fourth grade kids, with the odd adult thrown in, trying to _sing_. No microphones. It was agonizing. I paid five bucks for two cups of unbuttered and unsalted popcorn and a bottle of tepid water. And there were kids running all over the place."

"Imagine that," I commented. "Children at a _children's theater production_. How inappropriate."

"And, as you can guess, there was a squalling baby right behind us. Oh, and the _woman_ Raymond fixed me up with was at least eighty and barely seventy pounds. She was absolutely fragile. And partially deaf. I don't think she heard a word those kids sang."

"So, I gather you're handling the single life just fine."

He paused. "It's all just an attempt to stay busy, Audra. If I can spend my time swatting the butts of undisciplined children, it's that much time I'm _not_ missing your mother." His voice betrayed the sadness he was battling.

"Why don't you take some time off and come up here? I'm sure I can find you some skinny old women to date."

"Thanks, Audra, but I have no doubt you have your hands full with your daughter and your job. I assume you're still with _your_ Dr. House."

I corrected him, "He was never _my_ Dr. House, Daddy."

"Trouble in Princeton?" he asked.

"Nothing new."

"Honey, are you okay about Dr. Michaels?"

I couldn't answer promptly. Finally, I said, "I'll never be okay about Aaron, Daddy. But I'm very grateful _my_ Dr. House, Greg, and Dinah were there to protect me. They really did, you know."

He answered, "Yeah. Dinah is really quiet on the subject. Makes me wonder sometimes."

"What are you wondering, Daddy?"

I heard him sigh. "I wonder what I could have done to have prevented that whole fiasco. I never realized you were at risk."

"Nor did I, Daddy," I answered, tearfully.

He cleared his throat and said, " Audra, if you need anything for you or Zelda, please let me help you."

I was silenced by the magnanimity of his statement. "Thank you," was all I could articulate.

"Greg has mentioned he wants to be up there when Zelda comes home from the hospital. I don't know if you've spoken with him?"

"No, Daddy, I haven't. Thank you for telling me. And, should you find one of these _women_ to your liking, it's okay," I closed.

"Call your brother," was his last remark.

Greg answered with his characteristic joviality. "Cissy, 'bout time I heard from you. How's the mini-you?"

"Zelda's doing well. Up to four pounds now. Daddy says you want to be here when she's released?

"I do. Is there a target date?"

I laughed, "End of the month if nothing goes wrong. I'd love to see you, Greg."

"I've been working so damned much lately, I haven't had time to catch my breath, although I had a call from Allison. I gather she resigned from the hospital. How is House handling that?"

"You know him – he'd never admit anything gave him a moment's pause, but . . ."

"And on the romance front? You two still hooking up?"

"Greg," I scolded, "Blue Eyes has plenty of things to occupy his time without wasting his energy on me."

"Damn, Cissy, you two are so frustrating. I really just want to hit you both over the heads with a big club, then throw you into a pit where you have to stay until you either kill each other or fuck like loons."

"We'd do one and then the other," I answered. "I'll leave it to your imagination _which_ we'd do first."

Greg laughed. "You are too funny. Why do I love you so much?

"Because I love you _so_ much."

We said our farewells and agreed he'd come to Princeton when Zelda was coming home for the first time. The very notion, and the closeness of its reality, made me lightheaded. I sat, staring at the telephone in my office, and pondered the upcoming play and my attendance. I still had no answers. I felt the frustration and anger of the morning bubbling beneath the surface.

I had been responsible for raising Greg from the time of his birth when I was fifteen. My absent, alcoholic mother and my disinterested father had allowed, even demanded, I assume the care of a child who, in time, became a full-time job as I struggled to have his unknowable condition diagnosed while, simultaneously, providing him all the opportunities for self-expression available in a small, southern town. And I had been caretaking someone nonstop since Greg's birth; from championing Greg, to serving as a society lawyer's wife, to housing my dying mother, I had always, always been solitarily busy providing emotional and physical support for others. And now I had Zelda to fight for.

Why had I been so angry at Blue Eyes' suggestion I might be jealous of Jim's evening with Allison? I had grown tired of people's presuppositions about me and my motives; surely, of all those who knew me, Blue Eyes was the one who had reason to trust me and to give me the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that's all I wanted back then as well as now: the benefit of the doubt. Someone to have enough faith in me to accept me unquestioned. The only times, as a teenager, I could get Mother's or Daddy's attention was when I did something they found unladylike, such as yelling or throwing objects. I had refined my outbursts to gain the most reaction from the least expenditure of energy. Unfortunately, I was continuing that same behavior with a different cast of characters. Perhaps Blue Eyes deserved the _benefit_ of my doubt.


	34. Chapter 34: Shenanigans

Chapter Thirty-four: Shenanigans

I sat there, at my desk, staring morosely at the tangerine-colored orchids Jim had given me, and I had an epiphany. Granted, epiphanies are few and far between, but this one seemed genuine in its intensity and clarity. I looked through my rolodex and found Troy's number. Thankfully, he was home and receptive to my idea. He promised to give his comrades a call and let me know what he could deliver. I smiled, leaving the office, as I proceeded to the hospital to spend time with Zelda.

I gave her a sponge bath underneath the watchful eye of the nurse; she smiled a lot and wiggled all four limbs like a regular but very small baby. I diapered her and slipped her into a different onesie – I'll Try to be Nicer if You'll Try to be Smarter – and immediately thought of Blue Eyes. As if anyone else had been on my mind. She guzzled her bottle in amazing time. I held her and rocked her until she went to sleep. I was far too wise to try to sing to her. She was peaceful when I settled her back down and left, although Dr. Chase's appearance stopped me.

"Audra, how are you?" he asked congenially.

"Good, Dr. Chase. I understand you've moved permanently to the NICU. They must be thrilled to have you, especially since you seem to work on Sundays."

He bowed his head nervously. "I'm sure you know House fired me."

I reached out to lay my hand on his forearm. "Dr. Chase, he's never said an unkind or critical word about you, and you were the only one either of us would trust with Zelda. I don't know what happened – he's had an eventful, unsettling winter – but I feel certain nothing was a sincere reflection on your abilities."

He smiled in his charming way. "Thanks for saying that. In the end, he was right, as usual; it was time for me to move on. And Zelda is my poster child for preemies. She's doing just wonderfully." He hesitated and ran his hand through his gorgeous hair, flipping it back off his forehead. "I'm hesitant to tell you this, but I think you should know House comes by to see Zelda almost everyday. He likes to hold her, feed her, and, you won't believe this, but he's even changed her diaper."

"He's changed her diaper? Wow! That's a big thing for him."

"Well, he may have changed the diaper to win a bet. Still, no matter what happens, Audra, he's developed an attachment to your daughter."

I thought of those words as I headed to the convertible. He had "an attachment" to my daughter.

The townhouse was empty of all life forms. I rambled around, finally scrambling a couple of eggs to eat with a glass of very cold chardonnay. I flipped channels on the television for a bit, but there was nothing I felt like watching alone. Eventually, I wandered to my bed, solitary.

The next morning, Jim had the coffee ready as I entered the kitchen. He admired my business suit and whistled, "Whoa, there, Audra. What is going on with you?"

"Relax," I answered as I poured myself some coffee. "I have a meeting with my department head – nothing more. But, where were you were last night?" I asked as I assumed my usual seat.

Jim was trying to physically force bread into the toaster. "I was at House's, watching his saved episodes of _Yankee Workshop_. Not one of my better evenings."

His mood was not lost on me. "Hey, is something wrong?"

He rubbed his handsome face with his palm. "House is exhausting to have as a friend."

I laughed. "Well, duh!"

Jim smiled. "Listen, my dinner with Allison was just friendly. Nothing personal."

I answered, "I know. Greg told me she had called him, too. Is Blue Eyes giving you a hard time?"

"Yeah, but I have no idea why. I'm thinking he's just irritated he didn't know about it first."

"You know he's a gossip hound. He always wants to be the first to know _everything_."

Jim finally pulled out the shredded pieces of bread. "Do you want toast?" he asked, exasperatedly.

I giggled. "Actually, no. I'm going to head straight to the university. But, if it would help, I can make _you _some toast or eggs."

He dropped the bread debris in the garbage disposal. "I think I'll just go to the hospital."

I poured my coffee into a travel mug and patted Jim's arm as I passed by.

"Hey, Audra, good luck with your meeting."

"And good luck today with Blue Eyes," I called in return.

I opened my office suite and grabbed the file containing our response forms before I headed to Joel's office. I was uneasy about the meeting. Joel was free and waiting for me when I arrived.

"Come have a seat, Audra," he invited in his near-manic way. "Before we start our serious conversation, I have something you might want to see."

I stared nervously as he pulled out an edition of _Contemporary Literary Criticism_. He flapped it at me, across his desk, until I was finally able to grab hold of it. My mouth opened as I realized it was the February issue containing my article. "How?" I asked.

"They like to send university department heads their copies a few days early. Your article is brilliant. Great first article. I gather you're going to do some follow up work on Stoppard?"

I wondered how he knew about my plans to write about Tom Stoppard. "I'm doing an independent study under Dr. Mebane this summer and thought I might include Stoppard in my research, although Dr. Mebane's specialty is really twentieth century American."

"He told me he was planning to branch out – get you to help him research a series of critical essays on Stoppard. Even said he was going to see the new play in New York this weekend for background. Perhaps I misunderstood him – I thought he said you would help with the research, but _he_ would do the actual theorizing and writing. I'm sure I got it wrong."

Damn that weasel. I didn't, for a second, believe he planned to write his own articles on an area out of his field of specialization. "I'm really grateful you've given me the chance to see my article in print. It's exhilarating. Is this the reason you wanted to meet with me?"

"No. I've been talking with our people at Princeton University Press, and we wanted to approach you about compiling your writing modules and lesson plans into a textbook to target e-learning, especially developmental English classes."

"What?" He had caught me totally by surprise.

He chuckled. "I know it will take even more of your time, but you have a huge head start with the materials you used in the class last semester, plus what you're doing with your three classes this semester. Your numbers are off the charts, and the feedback from the students is phenomenal. It only makes sense to capitalize on your success by getting it in book form. You'll be paid, of course, and receive a royalty with every book that's sold."

"Wait," I whispered. "You know about our numbers? The responses?"

He replied, "Of course, Audra. Troy and Cindy print summaries for me every week. Weren't you aware?" He laughed. "No matter – it's all good. They're thrilled and excited and proud to be working on something so successful – that doesn't happen too often in academia."

"What about Dr. Mebane's book?" I stammered.

"David has a book? I assume you mean something other than a collection of essays on Stoppard?" He looked genuinely confused.

"I," I began. I took a deep breath and started over. "Dr. Mebane said he had a manuscript for a textbook he wanted me to review. He said it was geared for teaching comp online. If he had something in the works first . . ."

Joel held up his hand. "Wait. Dr. Mebane has tenure and, as a professor, has many strengths. However, I have had some difficulties with him. He has, in the past, tried to, shall we say, 'borrow' the work of graduate students to use as his own. I suspect that's what is happening with this 'manuscript' of his. He is unaware I was going to approach you about this, but he _did_ know we were wanting to develop a textbook to fit the courses in your program. I suggest you find an excuse _not _to review his manuscript. The less you have to do with his projects, the better. And don't show your work to him. Just to be safe." He stared at me solemnly. "I also think it would be a good idea if we found another professor to oversee your independent study program, if you agree?"

I nodded.

He grabbed some paper and scribbled some notes. "I'll see who's going to be around this summer and make some inquiries. I'll get back to you."

"Dr. Jacobs," I said with relief, "I don't know how to thank you. I've had an uncomfortable feeling about some of Dr. Mebane's questions, and his interest."

"David hasn't published a literary article in two years, Audra. That's not good for an academician, especially one of his caliber. I know he expressed a good deal of interest in your subject area when he found we had secured your services. Because your field is so very contemporary, there is little already published, which can help _you_ get published; however, to be taken as a legitimate scholar, you have to dig into the research published on other literary works and incorporate them. You have done that brilliantly in this article, and I see no reason you won't be able to continue with the same success. David, I fear, is drawn to you and contemporary British playwrights because he needs to get published and he thinks you can help him accomplish that. Be on your guard, Audra."

"Thank you, Dr. Jacobs."

"So," he said, smiling, "we are agreed the textbook to fit your program is something you want to do and you can do?"

"Yes, of course. Troy and Cindy have both been moaning they don't have enough to do; I'm sure they'll be ready to go right to work," I said with a huge smile on my face.

I, literally, danced, twirling and plie-ing, the entire journey from Joel's office to mine. Cindy and Troy both looked up, startled, when I jumped and kicked my way into the outside office, waving the journal containing my article gaily around their heads.

"Are you okay?" Troy asked while Cindy snatched the journal from my hand.

Cindy squealed. "An early copy. Troy, Ms. Jeffrey's article. She's _published_."

Troy scrambled to struggle with Cindy over the copy. I intervened, and they both raved over how smart my article looked when actually published.

"I have more good news," I cooed. I tantalized them. I shut the office door, and then I told them of the textbook proposal. Troy agreed to focus on assembling the writing modules while Cindy helped with the organization and monitored the activity online. I told Cindy to order a luncheon feast from her favorite restaurant on my tab. We had to eat at the office, but we deserved to eat well in celebration.

While Cindy was gleefully ordering everything she could think of from my favorite Indian restaurant, I motioned for Troy to come into my private office.

"How'd it go?" I asked him.

"I have a good offer, one you should take if you're serious," he whispered in a conspiratorial tone. He showed me a slip of paper with a name, phone number, and a dollar amount. I nodded and handed him the documents he needed.

"Will you take care of this?" I asked him.

He answered, "Of course. I'll bring the money back. And about the other . . ."

"Any luck?"

"Yes, and you were right. It's going to be pricey." He then pushed over a paper with the information I had asked him to compile.

"When do you think you can have the money?"

"By five if you can hang around that long. I won't be able to take care of the other stuff until tomorrow. Will that work?" he asked with undue consideration.

"Troy, that will be wonderful. Now, take my debit card and go pick up our lunch."

I picked up the phone to call Dr. Castillo while I waited for the food.


	35. Chapter 35: Boys and Their Chili

Chapter Thirty-five: Boys and Their Chili

Dr. Castillo promised to phone in a prescription for Trazodone to take the place of the discarded Ambien, although she enjoyed my story of wayward activity while under its influence. I called Dr. Murphy and was lucky enough to schedule an appointment with her on Friday. I also called a handyman Cindy suggested to have the ceiling fan replaced. I thought I was done with phone calls until, after lunch, I was surprised by a call from an old colleague.

"Audra, this is Sarah Cantrell," the familiar, polished voice introduced herself.

"Sarah, how are you?" I cried with true pleasure.

She said, "I want to know how _you_ are doing, although rumor has it you're creating quite a stir with online learning. _And_ I have the copy of a very interesting article on my desk bearing your name."

"Oh, Sarah, things have certainly been happening. I also have a baby daughter."

I heard the brief intake of breath before she recovered. "A daughter? Aren't you the sneaky one. Is there a father?"

"No, Sarah, no." I swallowed hard as I continued, "And what's going on with you?"

"Dr. Pirie had a massive heart attack last fall and a quadruple bypass immediately following. As of January first, I'm acting department head, to become official when his l retirement begins in May."

"Oh my god," I squealed. "Congratulations. I'm sorry to hear about Dr. Pirie, of course, but no one deserves to be department head more than you."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Audra, because I'm calling to officially bribe you to come back to Auburn for your doctorate."

I stuttered, "What?"

"I've heard, from _your_ department head, Dr. Joel Jacobs, all about your online program and what a major success it is, so I've been authorized to offer you money, free tuition for your doctoral classes, and_ anything _else I can to get you to head up a similar program here."

"Huh?"

Sarah laughed. "You've got to come back down here, Audra. You know I'm the only female in the old boys' school – I need some companion estrogen. Tell me what you want."

"Hang on, Sarah. Joel just asked me to write a textbook for the online courses."

"That's fine, Audra. Princeton publishes your textbook and uses it for their online courses, and we use it for our online courses – more money for them. Write the book. We'll make allowances for that in your contract. I'll even clear it with Joel first if you want."

I began to hyperventilate. "You're _seriously_ offering me a job?"

"I am _seriously_ offering you a job. You'll be a program director reporting straight to me. We can negotiate your job title. I'll give you free tuition and time off for course work. And free daycare. You'll need a staff: a full-time secretary, an instructor, and at least three grad students. How does that sound? We can negotiate how many students you can adopt. We'll guarantee to use your textbook. And I know I can offer you a salary that will leave you speechless. And I'll pay your moving costs. Did I hear you say 'yes' yet?"

"And I would start when?"

"Finish this semester, then we'll put you under contract. Hell, I don't care if you do nothing all summer but decorate your suite of offices and proof your textbook. I'll expect the courses up and running by fall, but we already have a fledgling program in place; you'll be able to step in and change things to fit with your own ideas. Give me your fax number and I'll send you a tentative contract, including money, before the end of the day so you'll know what you have to think about. Sound good?"

"Sarah, this is beyond my wildest dreams. You _are _sober, right?"

"Give me the damned fax number. I have _so_ missed you."

I gave Sarah the number and made her promise to give me a week to consider her offer. When her tentative contract arrived, I did, indeed, have to sit down when I saw the salary she was offering. If I accepted, Zelda and I would be living in high cotton. Plus, Sarah was a dream to work with. Moving to Alabama would put me within a three-hour drive of Daddy. But I would have to leave Blue Eyes.

Just as I was closing up the office, Troy hurried in with the documents I needed and a hefty check in his hand.

"Ms. Jeffrey," he said, "I can have the other things you want by eight in the morning if you're willing to pay . . ."

He told me how much he needed, and I wrote the check. He scurried out, hunched over like a secret agent. I headed for Zelda after making a detour to my bank.

By the time I made it home, the place reeked of the chili Blue Eyes and Jim had prepared together. Just walking through the door made my eyes water. The entire kitchen was the color of chili powder – it covered everything. A huge pot, still full, was on the stove. I spooned some of the lukewarm concoction into a bowl and opened a beer as I followed the sounds of "Crocodile Rock" being banged out on the piano.

"Hey," Jim yelled, "you're not eating the chili?"

"Yep," I answered after swallowing a huge mouthful. I immediately knew why Jim was hiding his face in his hands and Blue Eyes had switched to playing Kool & the Gang's "Too Hot." I dropped to my knees, shoving the bowl away from me, and started guzzling the beer.

"No, water," Jim cried.

All I could do was make gagging noises.

"Oh, hell," Jim said. He ran into the kitchen and returned with a huge glass of water. I drank it without breathing.

Blue Eyes, of course, just laughed. "Why the hell did you eat that, Tiger? Couldn't you tell by the smell we had crossed the line from primo chili to inedible sh1t?"

Jim squatted on the floor beside me. "Are you all right? We were afraid to put it down the garbage disposal."

"Last time we made chili, it burned out the disposal's motor _and_ dissolved every trace of Teflon from the pot. You see, Tiger, we don't make the chili to _actually_ be eaten. We make it as a kind of science experiment," Blue Eyes explained.

I croaked, "What were you planning to do with it, then?"

"Bury it in the backyard. I have a spot by that ugly ass pine tree all picked out."

"House, shut up," Jim ordered. "We may have done permanent damage to her vocal cords."

"Well, we can at least hope."

I grabbed my spoon and flung it in the general direction of B.E.'s head.

"Oh, fine," he groused. "I think she got some of that toxic goo on my head. If I start to lose my hair . . ."

Jim interrupted, "If you _start _to lose your hair? House, you're already cultivating a bald spot."

"You're not pretty when you're jealous," B.E. retorted.

"You two jerks let me eat throat-ravaging chili because you're more concerned with debating hair issues?" I hoarsely objected. "And, yes, Blue Eyes, you're developing a bald spot."

"She's mean when she's suffered internal burns," Blue Eyes said.

I asked, "Didn't you two eat _any_ of this?"

"Oh, hell no. We just use it as an excuse to drink copious amounts of beer. One must stay hydrated while cooking with hot peppers," B.E. answered.

"I make a delightful chili with just the right combination of heat and spiciness. House is the one who insists on degrading my delicacy by adding scotch bonnets and other odd peppers he discovers," Jim complained. "Beer drinking became an important aspect because the alcohol serves to cauterize any open wounds we've created from tasting the, well, chili."

"You two are dangerous," I concluded. "I think you _have_ done permanent damage." I rubbed my throat.

Jim hopped up again. "Time for the ice cream."

Blue Eyes patted the piano bench beside him. "Hop up, virgin gullet."

I sat beside him, leaning against his shoulder. "Nothing of mine qualifies as virgin after that."

He lifted his eyes at me. "Nothing? You sure about that, Tiger?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Shut up, Blue Eyes. I _know_ what you're thinking. _Don't_ say it."

He leaned close to my ear. "We can discuss it later, my little virgin."

"Vanilla with chocolate sauce," Jim called as he brought in a tray with three bowls and three spoons.

"I'll take mine curbside," B.E. requested. Jim handed us each a bowl.

We happily ate ice cream. Blue Eyes complained he couldn't play the piano while feeding himself, so I relented and spoon-fed him the cold, sweet treat while he ran through his Elton John repertoire. I don't know what he enjoyed the most, having me feed him or knowing Jim was watching me feed him.

He stayed that night, following me as if there were no question about his belonging. When I slid into bed, he slid in right behind me. I curled on my side and he curled himself around me, spooning me with a prodding erection. After nudging me for the third time, he said, "Why don't we check your virgin status, Tiger? I have an idea . . ."

"You are nothing but wicked, Blue Eyes," I laughed.

"But you love me. I heard you say it."

"Oh, no, you didn't," I lied.

He bit my shoulder hard enough to leave teeth imprints. "Admit it. I heard you. I remember."

"Are you going to keep biting me until I give in?"

He pulled a bit of my neck between his teeth and sucked, deliberately creating a hickey. "Admit it, my little virgin."

I sighed. "If you heard it, as you say you did, then why on earth do I need to confirm it?"

His teeth targeted my ear lobe, and he nipped it sharply. "I want to hear it again."

His right arm was around my waist, holding me against his insistent prodding. "You want me to say what you won't say? That's not fair," I complained.

"No need for me to say what you already know." He ran his hand underneath the Elton John t-shirt I had donned in honor of the night's music. I held my breath as he reached my breasts, rubbing them roughly as he pushed against my butt.

"I don't know a single thing," I whispered. I was lying still, praying he wouldn't stop squeezing and pinching my nipples.

"You know everything, little virgin," he growled in my ear as his hand crept lower, inside my panties. He fingered the crevice between my legs, slowly, gently insinuating his long hand further and further while only teasing the sensitive places I longed for him to touch. I leaned my head back, nuzzling against his bearded chin. He coaxed, "Ah, tell me what you want, little virgin."

"You know everything," I replied.

He used his hand to slide my panties down to my ankles, where I wiggled them loose. He pulled my butt snugly against him, slipping his hand between my legs from behind. His finger eased into me, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

"Is that what you wanted, little virgin?"

I allowed him to guide me onto my knees as he moved between my thighs. One hand pushed my shoulders onto the mattress while the other one lifted my ass up to meet him. He was quick and forceful when he shoved into me. He stopped an instant so I could breathe again; then, carefully, he began moving until I could stay quiet no longer. I moaned, and as he heard me, his own groans joined mine. When he withdrew, he wrapped both of his arms around me and held me securely, his chin beside the top of my head. As sleep claimed me, I thought I heard him say, "We both know."

I snuck out of bed before the sky had lightened. I took a quick shower and dressed in my burnt orange sweater dress I had worn for my program's reception. I wrote a note to Blue Eyes, rolled it up, and stuffed it inside his medication bottle. The note read:

Dear Blue Eyes,

Meet me on the hospital roof at six tonight. No earlier; no later. I promise to make it worth your time.

Tiger

I spent the early morning at the hospital feeding and changing Zelda. Her cheeks were beginning to fill out; she was looking less like a starving infant. I rocked her while she cooed, waving her arms when some shadow passed in front of her hazy view. I kissed her forehead and put her to bed. I headed for the staircase to check out the roof. It was slick with a coating of ice as snow flurried down in swirling clouds. The night was going to be more challenging than I had planned

When I unlocked my university office, Troy was waiting for me. He handed me a sealed manila envelope.

"Did you have enough money?" I asked him.

He nodded while glancing around surreptitiously. "Yes, ma'am. Everything is just the way you wanted it. Anything else I can do?"

"Come into my office. I need you to run some errands." I sat down and started making a list. "Troy, I need you to get all of this. Here," I pulled some money from my purse, "this should be enough money. Do you know where to find this stuff?"

He perused the list as if the free world depended on his successful completion of the assignment. "Yes, I'll get everything. I know just where to go," he answered. He put the list in his pocket along with the money. I shooed him out before Cindy arrived. I knew they had compared notes and had, most likely, figured out what I was up to. Still, I wanted to be as secretive as I could be.

While Troy was shopping, I gave three straight lectures to business classes. I made it back to my office at lunchtime. Troy was waiting for me; he had everything organized. I also had a message to call Blue Eyes.

"The roof, huh?" he asked as soon as he answered.

"The roof."

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

I answered firmly, "No."

I heard him sigh. "Six o'clock then."

As I left the office in the late afternoon to get everything ready for Blue Eyes, Cindy and Troy both wished me luck with my plans. Their grins told me they knew much more than I had revealed. I was nervous as I hurried back to the hospital. I was counting on a favorable reaction from Blue Eyes, especially after the conversation I had overheard between Wilson and him.

I worked for over an hour stringing lights all around and over the rooftop. The ice made things slick, but I succeeded in turning the barren area into a wonderland. Troy had found solid white lights, white lights that twinkled, and white lights shaped like large snowflakes. They created a canopy over the area by the door. I strung large, silver letters on a string and hung them high, facing the doorway. I used a shovel to scrape the snow into drifts along the wall. After I finished the hard labor, I went to the restroom to change clothes and spruce up. When I returned to the roof, I waited until my watch said six to start Al Green singing "Let's Stay Together." I stood by the door, holding my coat closed and clutching the manila envelope.

By the time the CD had played Al for the third time, I heard the door creaking as it opened. Blue Eyes, his face obscured in shadows, ducked as he stepped into the lights and the snowstorm. He stared at my makeshift invitation swaying amidst the white lights, and then he stared at me. Finally, he read the sign aloud: "Come Away With Me."

I nodded at him. "Please."


	36. Chapter 36: Where Would We Be Going?

Chapter Thirty-six: And Where Would We Be Going?

"And where would we be going, Tiger?" B.E. asked.

I shyly handed him the manila envelope. He opened it, examining the plane tickets.

"New York? Friday?" he asked.

"Yes. We would leave Friday afternoon and return Sunday evening. I have reservations at the Sofitel Hotel for a deluxe suite including a king sized bed." I hesitated. "I thought, since you took me to the hockey game for our first date, _I'd_ take _you_ on our second date." I waited anxiously for his reaction.

He pulled the brochure for the hotel out of the envelope. Next, he pulled out the _real_ tickets. "How'd you get these?"

"Would you go with me?"

"Tiger, I checked into getting these; they're god-awful expensive. And I thought you were going with Ph.D. guy anyway."

I put my hand on his arm. "I was hoping you'd go with me. _Please_?"

He held the tickets to _Coast of Utopia_ gingerly in his hands. "You sure?"

I nodded.

"How can you afford all this?"

"I can," I answered.

"You haven't been earning extra money giving blow jobs at the student center, have you?"

I laughed. "Of course not. Students don't pay enough. I wait outside the ER."

"How have I missed you?"

"You'd just try to pay me with a bad check," I accused.

"You know me too well." He smiled. "Tell me, seriously, how you've finagled this."

"First, look at the other brochures in the envelope. There are restaurants to choose from. And the museums."

He grimaced. "You're going to make me go to museums?"

"I've never been to New York. So, yes, we have to go to museums, but I'll reward you with some outstanding restaurants. And Madame Tussaud's. Still my treat."

"That does it," he proclaimed. "I want to know how you're funding this."

I gave in. "I sold the truck. I don't need it now I have Mother's convertible."

"But . . ." he began.

"My choice," I interrupted.

He whined, "_Tiger_."

"Will you go with me?"

"You did all this to entice _me_?"

"And more," I answered. I opened my coat, revealing the orange gym shorts and navy tank top I had worn the day I had first encountered Blue Eyes in the Princeton-Plainsboro clinic. I bent one knee, posing, then switched knees, angling the other way. He laughed. I was freezing, but I turned around and flipped my coat up so he could read "TIGER" on my ass. I looked over my shoulder at him and wiggled. "So?"

"Wiggle that again, and I might just follow you," he grinned.

"I was counting on it," I lied. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it in my ears. I had never been successful at romantic gestures; I had really taken a risk.

"You didn't have to do all this," he waved his hand at the lights and the CD player, "to seduce me, you know. I'm a much easier target."

I smiled at him as I turned around to look into his happy eyes. "I didn't want to take you for granted. I knew the play wasn't really your idea of a good time, although I'm hoping you'll be as pleasantly surprised as I was at the hockey game."

He moved closer to me and reached out to pull my coat around my chilled body. "But this is a two-night get-away. That implies a certain amount of intimacy."

"Do you mean sex?"

"Yes, please," he answered.

"If I have sex with you, you'll go to the play with me?" I clarified.

"But you're still paying for everything, including five star meals, maybe at Tom Colicchio's place, and a trip to the Algonquin Bar?"

"Of course, Blue Eyes."

"Then I'll be happy to nap during that European play with you. But I do want to go to the wax museum."

"Naturally, sir, your wishes will be accommodated," I acquiesced.

B.E. asked, "Have you told Ph.D. guy yet?"

I shook my head.

He chortled with pleasure. "Oh, let me. Pretty please?"

I laughed insanely. "You are very naughty, Blue Eyes."

He pulled the front of my coat to meet his chest. "But you adore me, my Tiger. I know you do."

I put my arms around his waist and turned my face up to his. "We'll have a good weekend, don't you think?"

He leaned down and kissed me lightly on my lips. "I think we will have a marvelous trip with the possible exceptions of the play and those nasty museums." He waggled his eyebrows at me.

"You might just surprise yourself and enjoy them."

"What about now?" he asked. "What do I get to enjoy up here?"

I giggled as he ran his hands through my hair. "Don't you think it's a tad chilly to enjoy much of anything up here?"

He answered, "You went to a lot of trouble to make this roof an enticing environment."

"Well, I had to do something to persuade you to go with me," I responded.

"I hate to disappoint you, but you didn't have to go to all that trouble; you had me with those orange gym shorts, Tiger."

"You are sooo easy," I purred.

He rested his lips next to my forehead. "Why don't we adjourn to my apartment and discuss, for example, which of the restaurants we will, say, _dine_ at."

"How can you make _that_ sound so suggestive?" I marveled.

"I am a man of definite talents. I think it's high time I demonstrate some of my lesser known talents to _you_," he leered as he slipped his arms inside my coat and cupped my ass cheeks with his hands, pulling them against him. "Do we need to call Wilson and tell him not to expect us for dinner?"

I told him, "That would be the polite thing to do," as I rubbed my face against his grizzled chin.

"Come on, then, Tiger," he said as he pulled me towards the door. "He was still in his office when I headed up here. Let's go by there on our way to bid the princess good night."

I paused to unplug the lights and the CD player. I saw no reason not to leave everything where it was; I could retrieve my decorations the next morning. My heart was still pulsating with the excitement of a weekend in New York with Blue Eyes when we found Jim hunched over his desk.

"What are you cooking for supper?" Blue Eyes demanded.

Jim's head snapped up, a guilty look on his face. "Oh, I hadn't, but, well, since you're both here, we can stop by that Ethiopian restaurant on McNally Road. It's just a hole-in-the-wall, but a very good one."

Blue Eyes grinned evilly. "Although Tiger's attire is certainly in keeping with that of a third world country, I don't think she's fitting for even a hole-in-the-wall."

"Argghh," I groaned as I pulled my coat tightly around me and covered my face with my free hand.

Jim angled his head quizzically and asked, "What?"

B.E. puffed out his chest. "Tiger's invited me to New York for the weekend. _She_ got tickets to the theater for _us_. _Her treat_."

I uncovered my face long enough to elbow him. "Stop gloating."

"Wow," Jim said. "_Coast of Utopia_? How did you get them?"

"Troy, my T.A., managed it. And I sold the truck," I confessed.

"And you're taking that uncultured neophyte? What a waste," Jim clucked.

"Hey," Blue Eyes objected, "I'm _not_ a neophyte."

"Do you even know what that means, House?" Jim asked.

B.E. stuttered, "Well, of course I do. Well, anyway, Tiger, here, has been courting me so I'll accompany her to the Big Apple, and I thought we'd spend the evening at my apartment. Alone."

"But, Jim," I said, anxiously, when I saw the crestfallen look on his face.

"No, no," he interjected, shaking his hand and waving his hands, "I have a ton of paperwork to catch up with here. You two go on and enjoy your evening. Maybe we can eat Ethiopian tomorrow night."

I hurriedly answered, "Of course we can."

Simultaneously, B.E. said, "Why the hell would we ever want to eat Ethiopian?"

I stopped, looked at Blue Eyes, and said, "Just shut up. Geez!"

He leaned next to me and asked, "You really want to eat wheat and beans with your fingers?" He shuddered indelicately. "Eewww!"

I turned to Jim. "_I_ would love to go to the Ethiopian restaurant tomorrow evening, Jim."

"We'll figure something out, Audra," Jim politely replied.

Blue Eyes pulled on my arm. "Nothing personal, Wilson, but we have some anticipation sex to get to. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Actually, we have to go see Zelda," I corrected B.E. as I was dragged through the doorway. "Bye, Jim." I heard Jim chuckle as I tripped into the hallway. "We are going to see Zelda, right?"

"Of course."

We did stop by the NICU. Blue Eyes insisted on feeding her. She was completely comfortable in his arms, smiling around the bottle's nipple as he sang, "Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog."

"I think her eyes are going to be green – don't you?" I asked.

He stopped singing briefly to answer. "You have green eyes – that would make sense, Tiger."

He resumed singing, and she wrapped her tiny fingers around his index finger. When she finished eating, I took her and changed her diaper. He stood beside me, leaning heavily on his cane, and watched.

"You're pretty good at that," he commented.

"The more I practice, the faster I'll get," I laughed.

"Are you ready for her to move in with you?"

I placed her back into her climate-controlled crib and turned to stare into his startlingly blue eyes. "I'm nervous about it, but I'm tired of these momentary visits. I'm ready to become her full-time mother. I know I'll make a lot of mistakes, but I really want the chance to give it my best effort, Blue Eyes. How do you feel about it?"

He looked away for an instant, and that break in his gaze would, later, haunt me. "I have no doubt that you'll be a fantastic mother. You'll be the best."

We settled for Chinese take-out at Blue Eyes' apartment. Since it was a hands-on food, and we were in a hands-on mood, we both ended up with more on us than in us. We fell asleep, smelling of garlic and soy sauce, on his couch, thrown over each other, until his leg began to ache, and I felt him move out from under me. "Huh?" I yelled when I felt myself suddenly drop.

"I need to move," he whispered.

I heard the swallow as he gulped down two of his pain pills. I followed him to his bed. Being so comfortably cuddled beside him, lulled to sleep with his humming, I overslept. I groaned and stretched, finally, and saw the bedside clock read eight-twenty. "Oh, my god," I screamed.

"Wha?" Blue Eyes grumbled. He rubbed his face. I started to get up, but he grabbed me and pulled me back within the circle of his arm. "It's early. Kiss me."

"It is most definitely _not_ early, and your breath reeks of scotch and Szechuan. _Let_ met go, you _letch_," I giggled as I struggled to escape.

I made it out of bed, into and out of the shower, and into the university with little interference from Blue Eyes. I had no spare clean clothes, but, fortunately, I had no lectures scheduled, so I borrowed navy sweats and a plain, navy sweatshirt from Blue Eyes. I breezed into the offices, ignoring Cindy's flapping arms, and rushed into my private office to find David parked behind my desk. I stopped, startled.

"David. What are you doing?" I asked.

He looked up from my computer, hastily clicking off the screen. "I was waiting on you, Audra. I wanted to talk about the upcoming weekend. _Coast of Utopia_, you know." He smiled slimily, his insincere smile.

I stood, awkwardly, in front of my desk; I refused, on principle, to sit in the visitor's chair _in front_ _of my desk_, but he seemed to have settled in behind my desk in _my _chair. "I'm glad you brought that up because I need to talk with you about it. I owe you a huge apology, but I can't go with you after all."

"You can't go? Has something come up?" He stared at me, stupidly, from behind _my_ desk without making the slightest effort to move.

"Actually," I began, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, "I am going this weekend, but I've made arrangements to go with someone else. I know this is terribly rude of me, and I apologize again . . . look, I've just gotten in. Do you think you could let me get to my desk?"

He stared at me as if I had told him I was spending my Saturday feeding bananas to my fiancé, the orangutan. I moved towards _my_ chair, and he made a choking sound and haltingly scooted back. "Did you say _you are _going to the play – just not with _me_?" he gulped. The notion was, obviously, a difficult one for him to grasp.

I waited while he vacated my seat. I clicked on my computer screen, but all it brought up was eBay; somehow, I didn't really believe he had been researching Madam Alexander dolls on which to bid. He stood just inside my office door, unmoving. Finally, I looked up at him. "Yes, David, I have tickets to Saturday's performance."

He began tapping his foot in a nervous manner. "It's a marathon performance, you know; all three plays of the trilogy. Nine hours. Surely you're not going to see it alone?"

I exhaled slowly and frustratingly. Couldn't he just let me reject him and be done with it? "I know it's a trilogy, David. Remember, I've been studying Stoppard. In fact, I've read all three of the plays. And, no, I'm not going alone. Greg House is going with me. Are you satisfied now?" My tone was harsh, I knew.

"You're taking that obnoxious doctor? The one with the limp? You'd rather go with him than with . . . Well, all right then. I'd better be going." And he turned quickly and left.

Of course, he had made a valid point. I hadn't told Blue Eyes the play we were going to see began at eleven in the morning and lasted until nine in the evening. Nor had I warned him it was about a bunch of Russian intellectuals in the nineteenth century. He was going to murder me before the first of the three plays was half finished. I made a note to see if we would have time to visit Madame Tussaud's first. I also elected _not_ to tell him about the length of the play until Saturday morning. Perhaps, if we had a fabulous meal Friday evening, and if I promised him a marvelous after-theater meal Saturday evening, and if I relinquished any trips to museums, he wouldn't grumble enough to drown out the entire play. I also made a note to hit the nearest adult bookstore to get ideas for unique but unforgettable Friday-night-in-New-York sex in order to lull him into a too-tired-to-care stupor by Saturday morning. I had an enormous amount of money invested in the weekend; however, the money had no significance when compared with the opportunity to see Stoppard's newest trio of plays; and, ultimately, all of it was insignificant if Blue Eyes and I were unable to find ways to enjoy ourselves and each other. I wasn't unrealistic enough to think he was going to be enthralled with a serious, cerebral play of an unusually butt-numbing length, but I was willing to make other sacrifices to keep him happy. Perhaps it was a sign of my naïveté I still thought a healthy, good-natured give-and-take could get a couple through conflicts; of course, part of my naïveté was to think Blue Eyes and I were a _typical_ couple.


	37. Chapter 37: The Adventure Begins

Chapter Thirty-seven: The Adventure Begins

The few days until our train trip to New York were exciting and anxious ones for me. I bought an orange, slinky dress from the consignment shop to wear to the play. The slippery, silk material was fashioned into a halter in the front, dipped low in the back, and was slit up to mid thigh on my right side. I found a pair of very tall, copper sandals to wear with it; when I tried the outfit on, I felt like a glamorous showgirl, albeit a very tall and unsteady one. I felt absolutely sexy, something I had seldom felt in my entire life. Of course, I would have to cover my showgirl outfit with a plain, black, wool coat, but my evening atop the hospital roof had shown me the power of what was hidden underneath a plain, black, wool coat.

I screwed up my courage and braved the lingerie department of a ladies' store. This was a new experience for me, and my discomfort attracted the aid of a matronly assistant. We quickly eliminated the merry widows and bustiers – I'm sure Blue Eyes would have delighted in them, but I could never have strapped myself into them, and, even if I could have, I'd have been too embarrassed to have let him have a glimpse. I confided to the saleslady we were going away for two nights; she suggested more traditional night gowns. The first was a modest, black lace gown. It was sleeveless with a deep V in the front and a deeper V in the back. The sheer, patterned lace reached the floor with slits above the knee on both sides. A cord cinched it just underneath my breasts. The full sway of fabric succeeded in concealing just enough to keep me comfortable. My assistant termed it "sexily sophisticated." I decided it was just the thing for Friday night. However, I wanted something a bit more adventurous to reward Blue Eyes on Saturday night after the marathon play. Arabelle, the saleslady, produced the perfect outfit: a sheer, tan, tiger-striped, shortie. The neck was cut straight across in both the front and back, attached at the shoulders with just a tiny bow. It then dropped straight down, clinging to my breasts, and then the front and back swung free, even with the curve of my breast. The top stopped just short of my belly button. A black thong served as the bottom. I wasn't sure I could pull it off, but when I let Arabelle have a peep, her face lit up with a genuine (or well-faked) smile. I confided my nickname was Tiger, and she squealed with delight. "Honey," she said, "you will get a _proposal_ in this." That almost made me reconsider. I ran my hand over my almost pre-baby flat stomach, and I wanted to show it off. Blue Eyes had rarely seen me dressed in a pretty or sexy way; I wanted to show him I could be pretty and sexy. I thought of Stacy and how perfect she always looked, how flawless her makeup always was and how appropriate her clothes always were, and I wanted him to see I could be, occasionally, in her league. Or close to her league. Arabelle made a nice commission on me that day.

As I was leaving the store, I stopped at the cosmetics counter and eyed the lotions. A pert, young clerk with the nametag "Tiffani" bounded over to offer her aid. I asked about lotions, moving towards the massage oils, but Tiffani wasn't bright enough to take the hint. Holding the bag with my sex-inducing-nighties inside, I asked for advice about the oils. Tiffani, whose voice could compete successfully with nails on a chalkboard for both irritation and volume, recommended an organic juniper oil and a lotion scented with patchouli. She also talked me into a lavender bubble bath (yeah, I can see Blue Eyes soaking in that). My purchases at the cosmetics counter far outdistanced the lingerie expenditures.

Troy, the jack-of-all-trades, had arranged fabulous meals for us at the best restaurants in the city. I remembered Cindy telling me he had a crush on me; if he did, I owed him a special meal of his own. He really came through for me. His shy, beautiful smile in his dark face when I thanked him made me blush. I was certainly not accustomed to such devotion. Maybe I could write one of his papers for him – a paper for David's class. Wouldn't it be interesting to see what grade David would give me in secret!

Jim drove us to the train station. I was a maniac, trying to make sure I had remembered everything. I packed apart from Blue Eyes. He had, initially, been offended I wouldn't let him throw his jeans in with my clothes, but, then, he began to suspect I had sex toys and kinky porn secreted in my luggage. I did not disabuse him of his fantasies. Jim seemed to have a healthy skepticism about our weekend; he seemed to suspect we wouldn't both survive the trip.

"If you have any trouble," he lectured on the drive, "you can reach me on my cell."

"So, you're good for bail?" Blue Eyes asked.

Jim scowled at B.E. "I was addressing Audra."

"We should be fine, Jim, but thanks," I said.

"I'll pick you up Sunday evening," Jim confirmed.

"Tiger, we are going to a strip joint after the play, right? You owe me a lap dance."

I stared at B.E. "Why in heaven's name do _I_ owe you a lap dance?" I could hear Jim snicker.

B.E. answered, "Because, my beauty, _you've_ never given me one."

I turned to the back seat and grabbed his ear lobe. "Blue Eyes," I drawled as I twisted his ear, "_this_ is definitely not the way to get a lap dance from _anyone_."

Jim was laughing wholeheartedly by then. "She has you, bro."

"Ow, ow, ow," B.E. groaned. "Okay, I give."

I let go of his ear, but I continued staring at him. "Don't be stupid and ruin what I _might_ have planned, Blue Eyes."

"Is this weekend for you or for me?" he asked.

"I'm trying to make it for both of us," I answered.

He crossed his arms and sunk down in his seat. "I don't trust you," he sulked.

I sighed. "Blue Eyes, I know the play is going to be a test for you, although I suspect you're going to like it, but I am willing to make a special effort to ensure the rest of your trip is a pure joy."

"Hookers?"

"Is there a gun in this glove compartment?"

Jim scolded, "House!"

"Hey, I had to give it a shot."

"I'll give you a shot," I said.

Blue Eyes laughed. "I just bet you would."

I stared at him. "Try me, puddin'."

"Should I turn around?" Jim asked with concern.

Blue Eyes answered, "Not for a second, Wilson. I'm going to New York with this woman. And no one else."

Jim dropped us at the station and hurried away before Blue Eyes and I, in our anxiety, resorted to fisticuffs. We settled ourselves on the train, neither speaking, eyeing each other warily. Once we had reached New York and a porter was hauling our luggage into the Sofitel Hotel behind us, and Blue Eyes could see and smell the luxury, we both began to relax. As the handsome young porter lead us to our suite, I leaned over to B.E. and whispered, "The tips are yours."

"Tightwad," he whispered back.

I eyed him up and down, then I gave the porter the once-over. "I _can_ replace you."

We walked through the elegant emerald and cream sitting room and into the richly appointed bedroom, complete with a king sized bed and a bathroom with a shower and a Jacuzzi tub. B.E. handed the young man a wad of bills and thanked him profusely.

"What are we doing first?" he asked as he sat, bouncing, on the foot of the bed. He was grinning like a kid at a carnival.

"_I'm_ going to take a bubble bath. Tonight's itinerary has us scheduled for drinks at the Blue Bar at the Algonquin Hotel, then dinner at Tom Colicchio's Craftsteak, and, last but certainly not least, a special surprise for _you_."

"Let me guess," he drawled. "You've rented me double-jointed Siamese twins to play with, haven't you?" He grinned his goofiest grin.

"By the hour. And I was trying _so_ hard to keep it from you. Well, now you know what I had planned, I guess I'd might as well cancel. It's no fun once the surprise is over."

He reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me onto his lap. "You are so thoughtful, and so selfless," he murmured as he nibbled on my neck. "Most women would be too threatened to give a man what he really wants."

"Not me. I'm happy to give you syphilis and gonorrhea and Chlamydia and herpes and seven different kinds of genital warts. My pleasure. As long as you'll never have the opportunity to touch _me_ again, you'd might as well enjoy yourself."

He let me slide down his left leg onto the floor; I landed with a thump. "You think you're so damned smart," he said. He tried to sound angry, but he couldn't quite pull it off. "Go get your bubble bath."

I struggled to my feet without any assistance at all from him. I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my jeans. He limped into the sitting room, television controls in his hand as he searched for alcohol. I followed him, removing my socks as I went.

"I checked out that tub; I think there's room for two," I called as I stopped in the bathroom to turn on the water. I poured in a healthy helping of Tiffani's expensive lavender gunk.

"Hmmmm," he mumbled.

I tracked him down, sprawled out on the dainty sitting room settee, watching a basketball game, a glass of scotch in his hand. I dropped my jeans at the door and strolled in front of the TV in my sweater and panties, pausing to bend over and examine the magazines arranged on the coffee table.

"Harrumph!" he barked at me.

I jumped straight up and squealed like a girl.

He laughed. "If you wanted me to play in the tub with you, why didn't you just say so?"

I smacked him with a magazine. "There's not a romantic bone in your body, is there?"

He smiled evilly and tried to get a grip on my hand. "Come over here, little girl, and find out."

We both sampled Tiffani's lavender bubble bath, and we both agreed Mr. Bubble was much cheaper and just as effective for our needs.

I was particularly excited about going to the Blue Bar. When _The New Yorker_ was in its infancy, Harold Ross had made it his unofficial office, and he had spent many hours there with other literary greats such as Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley. I wore a black, pencil skirt with my white, fluffy sweater. I tried to wear sheer, black thigh hi's, but the first time I bent down, the narrow tops rolled right down my not-so-thin thighs. I had no choice but to abandon them for the traditional pantyhose.

Blue Eyes, to my delight, had on a charcoal suit with a black shirt and a camelhair coat thrown over his arm. When he saw me admiring him, he stopped. "What? Do I need a tie? I have one, but I don't have to wear one tonight, do I?" He was sincerely asking my opinion, his face screwed up in the hope he didn't have to strangle himself for one evening. In New York, away from the worries of the hospital, he looked young and, in that moment, boyishly cute. I impulsively threw my arms around his neck and damn near choked the life from him.

"Hey, I can wear the fucking tie. Just let go of me, okay?" he croaked.

I laughed. "No. No tie. You're fine just the way you are," I said as I released him.

"Then why the hell did you maul me?" he asked, rubbing his neck and looking at me suspiciously.

I shrugged as I slipped into my coat. "I had an urge."

The Blue Bar at the Algonquin was small with dark wood and glass; it was everything I would have pictured an old bar to be. B.E. insisted I order an "old-fashioned" drink – no "mojitos" – so I ordered vodka martinis with extra olives.

"I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when Dorothy Parker was here – she was so witty," I said.

"Let me see if I can remember a bit of her wisdom," B.E. said, pondering. "If I'm correct, she sounded a lot like you: 'By the time you swear you're his / Shivering and sighing/ And he swears his passion is / Infinite, undying / Lady, make a note of this/ One of you is lying.'"

"I remember one: 'Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song/ A medley of extemporanea; / And love is a thing that can never go wrong; / And I am Marie of Roumania,'" I laughed. "But this one is my favorite, and, I'll wager, yours:

The ladies men admire, I've heard,

Would shudder at a wicked word.

Their candle gives a single light;

They'd rather stay at home at night.

They do not keep awake till three,

Nor read erotic poetry.

They never sanction the impure,

Nor recognize an overture.

They shrink from powders and from paints . . .

So far I've had no complaints."

B.E. laughed, but he couldn't let me have the last Dorothy Parker word. He quoted, "'You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.'"

When it was time to head to the restaurant, Craftsteak, we walked a bit before hailing a cab, looking in the windows of the stores in this magical city. I was, admittedly, a bit lightheaded from my early twentieth century martinis, but as I perused the windows, one of them stopped me. Blue Eyes kept walking, his left arm trying to guide me along with him, but I was stationary, gaping at the merchandise. He finally came back to determine what had caught my eye. I shook my head and hurried on, grabbing his hand while letting lose with a whistle that had two cabbies pulling over to vie for us. He tried to peer behind me in his best curious effort, but I pulled him into the cab and seduced him by whispering exotic cuts of meat.


	38. Chapter 38: You Did What?

Chapter Thirty-eight: You Did What?

Troy had secured us a reservation at one of the tables overlooking the Hudson River. The décor was clean and sleek, very modern, and Blue Eyes was salivating at the anticipation of their aged beef. He ordered a crisp Riesling for us to drink with their traditional seafood tasting of the numerous varieties of raw oysters.

"I'm not sure you're going to be able to handle me after I've eaten all these oysters," Blue Eyes leered as he swallowed an East Coast Barron Point oyster.

I sipped my wine and smiled mysteriously because I knew the surprises still ahead. "Puddin', I can handle _you_ any time, any way. Guaranteed."

He slurped down another oyster and concentrated his steely eyes on me. "You have something up your sleeve, Parker Junior. What ever is it?"

I continued smiling and raised my glass to my lips. "Wouldn't you like to know," I drawled.

We observed the customers around us, fabricating their histories and situations. Two couples were sitting with the men talking to each other while the women chattered to themselves.

"The women are sisters. They _made_ their husbands take them out to eat," Blue Eyes assessed.

"Oh, come on. They're eating at a _steakhouse_, for pity's sake. The men chose it," I insisted.

He nodded. "Okay, maybe the husbands picked the restaurant, but the women let them because it was the only way they could pull them away from the TV. I checked the shows before we left the hotel. _Naked_ roller derby. You think those guys want to be _here_?"

"Naked . . .? That's just disturbing, Blue Eyes."

A thin, severely dressed woman who was gesturing animatedly to her equally as thin male companion, drew our attention next.

"They're both gay," Blue Eyes flatly declared.

I objected, "That's just stereotyping."

"The reason we stereotype is because it is, most often, accurate," he explained.

"But why would a _lesbian_ and a _gay man_ be out together?"

He leaned across the table as if to keep his disclosure private. However, he whispered very loudly, "They're planning to kill all the heterosexuals. That's why she keeps waving that knife around – she's practicing for hand-to-hand combat." A mousey, out-of-place-looking couple suddenly caught his eye. "Now, check out those two. The man didn't want to come here – he's appalled at the prices and has no idea what to order – and the woman is, well . . ."

I saw her plain dress, her pale features, her anxious eyes. "She suggested they come for their anniversary – she's treating him. She's trying to please him. She thinks she's losing him." The woman glanced at her menu, then looked to the man, smiling in that tell-me-you-like-me way. I not only felt a sharp stab of pain at her unmasked neediness, but I covered my own heart with my hand and turned to look at Blue Eyes as I pondered my own, unmasked neediness. Did I turn to him with that same, pleading look, and did he reward me with a bewildered and irritated dismissal the way the other man did? I excused myself and fled to the restroom.

Perhaps martinis and wine didn't mix well; perhaps the day had been too full of excitement; perhaps I had made a horrible mistake; perhaps I was losing my mind. I really didn't know which the answer was. I splashed cold water on my face, then attempted to repair my makeup. My hands weren't shaking quite so badly by the time I returned to our table.

However, Blue Eyes was absent. I took my seat while glancing around. Maybe he needed a trip to the restroom and had despaired of my ever returning. I sipped more wine and waited. Finally, a waiter brought me a note:

Parker Junior,

I'll be right back. I've ordered a 56-day dry-aged New York Strip, rare, with baby romaine Caesar salad and fries. Order what you want, although bear in mind I've ordered a pricey cabernet sauvignon to go with the meal. Don't fear – I will be back for my steak.

B.E.

I read and re-read the note. He left. He just left. In the middle of supper. I looked around. The waiter returned to take my order, and I asked him if he saw where Blue Eyes went.

"He said he had an errand to run. He asked me to hail him a cab," the young man answered.

"A cab? He took a fucking cab? Where?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't know. Would you like to order now?"

"No. I'll wait until he returns. And hold his food, too."

As every minute passed, the knot in my intestines twisted a little tighter. I finished the bottle of wine and had the bottle of red wine served. He had been gone for thirty minutes. I plowed through my purse and found my cell phone. He answered.

"Where the bloody fuck are you?" I almost screamed.

"I'll be back. Just don't eat my steak."

"I'm leaving," I whispered into the phone. This was not the way I had wanted the evening to go.

I paid the bill. I asked the waiter for an envelope; inside it, I put the information for the big surprise for Blue Eyes: reservations for a ringside seat at The Knitting Factory to see the Tony Hymas quartet, including Hymas on piano, Adam Linz on double bass, J.T. Bates on drums, and the inimitable George Cartwright on alto and soprano saxophones. I had been so excited about giving him the opportunity to see such legendary jazz musicians – I truly hoped he would go on without me. The waiter, seeing the tears in my eyes, was kind as he secured me a cab.

When I reached the hotel, I knew Blue Eyes would come dragging in at some point, but I still resisted the urge to use the bolt to lock the door. I wanted, in my heart, for there to be an explanation for the evening's bizarre ending. As I undressed, I took out my black, "sexily sophisticated" nightgown; I slipped it on and looked at myself in the mirror. Was I just a pale, unlovely woman who was trying too hard to engender emotions in someone who was incapable of feeling them? Or incapable of feeling them about me? Abandoning me in mid dinner sent a pretty strong message. I fanned out the sheer fabric of the gown, its fullness enveloping my legs. I twirled around, feeling girly, until I saw myself again; I was just the same, ordinary, bookish woman I had always been. Not even a sexy, black nightgown could make a difference.

I crawled into the huge, king-sized bed and curled myself into a ball.

"You left!" he yelled.

I had been asleep, only to jump as the lights flashed on, and he threw himself across the bed.

"Why didn't you wait? The food was unbelievable."

His head was just beside my waist. I started to raise my hand to thwack him, but he saw me.

"And it was very thoughtful of you to arrange the show at The Knitting Factory," he began as he rolled away from my hand. "When I explained to them you were overcome with morning sickness – or evening sickness – they were nice enough to give us a rain check for tomorrow evening. They said to just stop by after the European play."

"You left me, alone, at the restaurant for almost an hour. Just tell me why before I call the police and have you taken out of here."

He scooted up to rest his back against the headboard, sitting beyond my reach. "The question is, 'Why didn't you just wait for me?' Huh?"

I looked up at him. "Are you talking to me?"

He shook his head. "You just won't let anyone do anything nice for you. Not ever. That's a bad habit you _really_ need to break."

I sat up so that I was also leaning against the headboard. "I have no fucking idea what you are rambling on about." He leaned a bit closer to me, peering down the V in the front of my nightgown. "Don't even give it a moment's consideration," I warned.

He chuckled. "When you were glued to that store window, I couldn't tell what you were looking at. I tried to see around you, but you pulled me away. However, I did see the name of the shop."

"Oh fuck," I whispered.

His clear, aquamarine eyes stared straight into mine. "Yeah. Oh fuck. It wasn't until we were talking about that mismatched couple that it clicked. I didn't realize it would take me so long, but I _also_ didn't think you'd up and leave. Oh, here," he said as he handed me a paper bag.

I reached inside and pulled out a huge, white t-shirt that said, "I heart NY." I looked, and it was a size 2X. I held it up before me, almost as wide as the bed, then I lowered it. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"I did say you were afflicted with morning sickness, _honey_."

"Since you ruined our evening for such an _extravagant_ purchase, perhaps I should put it on," I suggested.

"You'd better save it for our return tomorrow night. And you'll need to act ill tomorrow, although an evening sitting at a play should be enough to kill your appetite. I'm sure it will kill _mine_."

"You have _no_ idea," I thought.

"Now, let me get this straight," I said. "You realized I had been looking into the window of a store named, 'Antique Jewelry,' so you rushed out in the middle of supper to buy me an oversized, New York t-shirt? Have I got this correct?"

He chucked me under the chin. "Just because you're smart doesn't mean you have to be such a bitch, you know."

"Whoa, puddin'. _You_ left _me_ in the fucking restaurant."

Blue Eyes nodded. "Okay, okay, you can be a _little_ bitchy. And have a little morning sickness. But just for _pretend_."

I threw up my hands and tipped my head back against the bed. "I give up. I do. You've worn me out."

"Then, perhaps, you'll be calm enough to let me give you this."

I felt the warmth of the metal as he let it slide into my hand. I looked down, my mouth already open in wonderment. Indeed, resting in my palm was the very piece of jewelry I had spied. I lifted my eyes to meet his; I nodded imperceptibly, and he fastened the choker around my throat. The cameo in the center was an exact match for the ring that had been Mother's and was now on my right hand. Most cameos were made of carnelian shell, but Mother's was made of rare sardonyx shell and distinctive because of its dark brown background and pure, white foreground. The picture itself was unique because it featured a Victorian lady jostling a young child, which was an unusual variation on the Madonna theme. The choker's cameo was proportionately larger, and three strands of gold chain ran from each side to the latch in the back. Blue Eyes' fingers easily affixed the choker, and it nestled snugly against my throat. I turned to allow him to see it; I saw the tears in my eyes reflected in his own. I can't even imagine how much such an exquisite piece of jewelry must have cost.

"Blue Eyes . . . I'm . . . "

"I take it you forgive me for leaving you?"

"Oh, can't you just shut up?" I said as I began to cry in earnest.

"Oh, hell, Tiger. I never give anyone anything. Here, I try to give you something special, and you go all, well, _wet_ on me," he whined as he pulled my head underneath his chin. "And I bet it looks damn sexy with that slinky negligee you have on. Not that you'll let me see it _now_," he continued grumbling.

"God damn it, Blue Eyes, if you'll quit talking, I'll take the fucking nightgown off, okay?"


	39. Chapter 39: The Road to Hell

Chapter Thirty-nine: The Road to Hell . . .

I woke up Saturday morning and, except for the cameo hanging heavily around my throat, was naked and alone. I stretched for a moment and listened. Finally, I heard the clicking of the television remote in the sitting room. I pulled on his discarded shirt from the night before and walked up behind Blue Eyes.

He looked up at me. "Room service," he said, waving his arm across the platters of food and the pot of coffee. "Coffee? You must be hungry since you missed supper."

I sat on the floor beside his chair. "I need to thank you for . . ." My hand went to the necklace.

"I think we sorted that out last night," he interrupted as he handed me a cup of coffee. "Madame Tussaud's this morning? Pretty please?"

I sighed. I kept my voice muted. "We'll have to go there tomorrow. This play is, well, really three plays. Stoppard's trilogy. And, rarely, they perform a marathon of all three plays . . ."

"Wait," he interrupted again. "We're seeing _three_ plays? That was definitely _not_ in my contract."

I began my first plan of persuasion. "Blue Eyes, the actors are some of the best and most famous actors . . ."

"Who?"

I answered, "For one, Ethan Hawke."

"Who is he?"

I sighed. "He was married to Uma Thurman."

"And who is _he_?"

I dropped my chin onto my chest. "_She _. . ."

"Oh, yeah, yeah," he said. "She was that skinny chick in those 'Kill Bill' movies. So, she's in this play?"

"No," I said, draining my cup and extending my hand so he could refill my cup. "Her ex-husband, Ethan Hawke . . ."

"Wasn't he in that chick movie, 'Dead Poet's Society'? He played that gay actor kid who shot himself. Wait, no, that actor had a bunch of names and is in that lame medical show. It's on some second-rate network. BET, the CW, USA – something like that. _What is_ the name of that show?"

I sighed and began the second, plan of my persuasion. "It's a play based on historical events – the Russian revolutions of the 1800's. At the center is Alexander Herzen, who . . ."

"Ewwww," he squealed in an imitation girly squeal. "Not history. Tell me it's not history? Not political. Tell me it's at least a musical. With singing Russians who dance and harmonize their way through the terrors of Tsar Nicholas I? Come on, Tiger, give me something to cling to."

"If you will just _try_, I promise that when we get to The Knitting Factory I'll do whatever you want me to do. Anything." My third plan of persuasion: offer anything, including any kind of sexual intercourse.

His face perked up. "You'll act like you have morning sickness?"

I nodded. "Want me to puke?"

He actually laughed. "No, but I appreciate the offer. Just make them feel sorry for you so we can still get a good seat. Deal?"

So, Blue Eyes got to see me in my orange, slinky dress, elegantly accented with the cameo choker, and I got to see him in a proper suit and tie. He chaffed at the early opening hour of eleven, but I told him we had lunch and dinner reservations at area restaurants that catered specifically to these marathon performances, and the promise of food appeased him somewhat. We were milling in the foyer of the Lincoln Center when I felt his hand on the small of my back clench into a fist. I turned and saw what he had already seen.

Not ten feet away from us was David Mebane. His date, who turned to look in our direction just as I turned to look at her, was Stacy.

"I. . .," Blue Eyes stuttered.

I knew, immediately, David had invited Stacy solely because I had backed out on him, and David knew she and Blue Eyes had been dating when we first met at the university thanksgiving party. I _knew_ this was just David getting back at me. _But_ I didn't know what Blue Eyes would think. I also felt a sense of protectiveness towards Stacy. She needed to know David's interest in her was _not_ motivated by whatever normally motivated men to ask women out; lord knew _I_ wasn't going to try to second guess men as a gender. However, I felt certain David was trying to usurp my writing program materials, and I also felt certain he tried to use his attractiveness to gain access to my teaching modules, and I feared he would use his attractiveness to manipulate Stacy in some way. I wanted to warn her.

She saw him. "Greg. Imagine seeing you here. A play?" She smiled, her perfect, black cocktail dress highlighting her flawless complexion.

Blue Eyes dipped his head shyly. "Three plays, actually." He indicated me, "You remember Audra . . ."

I reached out, closing my hand around her tiny but perfect wrist, and tugged on her arm. "Yeah, yeah, Stacy Warner, David Mebane, nice to see you, yeah, yeah. Stacy, honey, you have mascara running all down your cheek. No, don't touch it. Guys, we'll just go find a restroom. We'll be right back." I pulled her behind me.

We faced each other in front of the lavatory mirror. I finally released her arm.

"I'm sorry, Stacy . . ."

"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" she demanded, her perfect eyes flashing angrily.

"I wanted to tell you, to warn you, well, to let you know – listen, _I_ was supposed to come to this play with David. I backed out. He invited _you_ because he knew _I_ would be coming with Blue Eyes . . .

"Oh, wait just a minute," she snapped. "Are you suggesting David only asked me out to get back at _you_?" She kind of spat the last word, and a thin strand of spittle stuck to her lower lip.

"I know it sounds ridiculously narcissistic, but if you'd let me explain . . ."

She shook her head with perfectly irritated vigor. "No. No, I do not want to hear any explanations of yours." She stopped and gave me a drop-dead-and-die look. "You're with Greg. Isn't he enough? How _dare_ you drag me in here and say that _my date_ has only invited me as some sort of eat shit gesture to _you_. Are you for fucking real?" She flapped her arms and started to leave.

"He, he gave me this necklace," I whispered, rather pitifully.

She paused, stared at the cameo, then rolled her eyes and left. I wanted, more than anything, to disappear from the face of the earth.

When I finally exited the restroom, Blue Eyes was waiting on me. He immediately grabbed me around the bicep.

"What did you say to her? To Stacy?" he hissed.

"Shut up," I whispered. I was walking as quickly as I could to find our seats.

"Hey," he insisted. "You drug her off, leaving me there with that, that poser . . ."

I stopped and stared at him.

"What?" he asked. "You _know_ he's a liar."

"It's not that," I answered, shaking my head and resuming the search for our seats. "I just never expected you to use a word like '_poser_.'"

"She was upset when she came out. What did you _say_ to her?" he persisted.

"Shut up."

We made it to our seats before the play began. He was quiet, although my cracked tailbone complained at the sitting. After the first play, _Voyage_, we went to O'Neals Restaurant for lunch. After we ordered, B.E. started again.

"Why was Ph.d. guy with Stacy?"

I sighed. "Why don't you ask _him_?"

"Because he hasn't chosen to spend his lunch break _here_. You know he's up to something."

I pushed my plate aside and stared sternly into his frigid eyes. "I tried to tell your _friend_ he had probably asked her to the play because I had broken the date with him, and he knew I was going to be with _you_. However, Stacy refused to listen to anything I said and, understandably, accused me of trying to keep both of _you_ for myself. At least, it sounded that way. To her." I had lost my appetite.

"Then you didn't do a very good job of explaining it to her. Not at all."

"No shit."

He endured the second play, _Shipwreck_, with only mild complaint, and no more than his usual medicine intake. We had supper at Josephina, although some of the joy of the evening had left us. The curtain for _Salvage_ wasn't until eight; it was after eleven when we finally made our way to The Knitting Factory.

"Act pregnant," B.E. counseled. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What ever would make you think that?" I looked askance at him. "When Dr. Castillo started me on anti-depressants, she also started me on the pill. Just because I had one, unplanned baby doesn't mean I would have another."

"Okay. We hadn't discussed it. I just thought I should ask." He shrugged as we entered the dark club.

One of the waiters recognized Blue Eyes and came over to greet him.

"Hey, Raul," B.E. began enthusiastically. "Any chance we can get our seat this evening? Audra, here, is feeling a little less sick."

I smiled at the gentleman and began prattling in my thickest accent, "I'm _so_ sorry about last night. I wasn't feeling very ladylike – when you're expecting you just can't always manage a busy evening – but I'm a bit better tonight. I _hate, hate, hate_ that we missed our reservations last night. I know you're busy, and it would probably be _far_ too inconvenient, but if there's anyway you could see fit to give us a good seat, well, Greg would just be _so _grateful. My pregnancy has been _so_ difficult for him, and this was the _one _treat I had promised him. _I_ would hate to be the _cause _of his missing George . . ."

The waiter led us to the best table in the house. B.E. said he did it only to get me to quit talking, which did nothing to hurt my feelings.

Although he had been attentive and good-natured about the trilogy of plays, as soon as we entered the dark club, it was obvious he was in his element. The piano, drums, and bass were all making their presence felt; however, the sometimes subtly seductive but more often insistent and almost discordant strains of the saxophone overwhelmed the room and captivated Blue Eyes. I occupied myself by appearing pregnantly queasy, which was no act as I felt quite ill about my confrontation with Stacy. I also spent time digesting the phenomenal trio of plays we had scene. I was pleased to see B.E. so seduced and absorbed in the music.

Blue Eyes, normally so reclusive, struck up a conversation with George Cartwright. When the set ended, George invited B.E. to take over the keyboards. I was startled and impressed to hear them jamming on "Zero Street" and other numbers I didn't recognize. We were still in the club long after even the most dedicated patrons had departed, and I watched as the staff swept up. B.E. and George were doing shots, so I settled back and waited. We didn't find our way to the hotel until the early hours of the morning.

Even though Blue Eyes had enjoyed his interlude at The Knitting Factory, there was still a sense of uncomfortable enmity tainting the atmosphere. I had planned on modeling the tiger-striped nightie for B.E., but, upon watching him soundlessly shower and slip between the sheets, any notions of playfulness disintegrated. In the dark, I removed my slinky dress and the precious choker and joined B.E. in bed. He had his back to me and feigned the even breathing of sleep, but I had slept with him often enough to know otherwise. I turned my back to him, bumping my ass against him, and stayed still for a few minutes. Then, I snaked my foot downward, insinuating it between his feet. The movement was slight, but I felt him gently rub my foot. I moved my back to lean snugly against his while placing my hand, tenuously, on his thigh. I felt him sigh and roll over to embrace me. We didn't talk, and the intercourse was neither as free nor as passionate as we had usually enjoyed, but we found a way to connect, to reconnect, and broach the chasm the day had created. The first lights of morning were just cresting the horizon as we finally fell asleep, curled around each other in a peaceful tableau.


	40. Chapter 40: The Final Showdown

Chapter Forty: The Final Showdown

By the time we were up and moving, we had to check out of the hotel. We were still both mutually uncommunicative with each other. Blue Eyes agreed to forfeit Madame Tussaud's this trip in order to head back to Princeton. I packed up my tiger-striped nightie. We quietly ate breakfast and silently boarded an early train. Blue Eyes called Jim, who agreed to meet us.

Blue Eyes pretended sleep for the entirety of the trip, and I didn't disrupt him. When we disembarked, Jim waited with a friendly smile.

"How was the great weekend?" Jim asked congenially.

I smiled weakly and asked him to drop me at the hospital so I could spend some time with Zelda.

"Do you want to stop at the hospital, too, House?" Jim asked.

Blue Eyes shook his head.

Jim looked, uneasily, to me. I said, "It's okay, Jim. I'll call a cab to get home."

He offered, "I can come back and get you when you're ready. Just call."

I thanked him, knowing I wouldn't trouble him.

When I exited at the hospital, Blue Eyes, was silent. He was thinking.

I fed Zelda and then just held her, waiting for her to fall asleep. I jumped, startled, and nearly dropped her when Dr. Chase took her from me.

"It's close to midnight. You're going to have to go home, or we're going to have to admit you," he said with his beautiful smile.

I was shaken. What if I had dropped her while I was napping? "Is she okay?"

Dr. Chase nodded. "A nurse had her eye on you. Audra, can we talk?"

I nodded obediently.

"Having her at home is going to be much different than just visiting her here. We'll do everything we can to prepare you and provide support, but you need to realize you're her mum. She's coming home with you very soon." He stopped, running his hand through his sunny, blonde hair. "I was thinking, if it works for you, February 25th might be a good day for her to check out of here? Her two month birthday."

I smiled with inexpressible joy, but the apprehension that clenched my intestines was very real. I wanted her for sure, but I was scared as hell.

"Dr. Chase, do you think, I mean, I don't know much about babies . . ." I stuttered idiotically.

He squatted beside me and squeezed my arm. "You're going to be fine. You love her – that's really the most important part, don't you think?"

I did love her. Having her safely ensconced in the NICU had relieved me of normal parental chores and responsibilities, but as I saw her change with every passing day, I longed to have her at home, under my motherly eye. With the same energy that frightened me, I ached to be her primary caregiver. Whether I would fail or succeed, the time to put it to the test seemed near.

My eyes were damp when I turned to Dr. Chase. "She'll be healthy?"

"She may have some problems – not unusual for preemies – but, if her current health is any indication, she should do quite well. And, should anything come up, House is always a great resource."

House, Blue Eyes, the creature from the deep – no matter the name, the persona was still intimidating.

"Do you want me to call him to come get you? Or did you drive?" the overly helpful doctor asked.

"I hate to bother you, but if you could call me a cab . . ."

He stood up and stretched his legs. "I'm on my way out, Audra. I'd be happy to give you a lift."

I hesitated, but as I struggled to stand, I realized my legs were numb from sitting. Dr. Chase helped me to my feet. "Would it be out of your way?" I asked him.

"Not in the least," he replied as he pulled on a coat and wrapped a scarf around his throat.

We traveled, silently, to his car. He helped me into my seat before walking around to his. I felt an overwhelming gratitude to him for everything.

"Dr. Chase, were you ever offended by my brother, Greg?" I asked as he started his car.

"Initially, I resented his flirtation with Allison, but now I know how she feels, I understand. It's not that I think your brother did anything improper – it just wasn't what I wanted."

"Apparently, in the end, it wasn't what he wanted, either," I replied.

"Your brother is an interesting contrast to House. Granted, the circumstances of their disabilities are different, and Greg has had a long time to come to terms with his situation, unlike House, but he handles it so well . . ."

I glanced over at Dr. Chase's face. "Do you feel its odd Dr. Cameron would want to be with him?"

Dr. Chase laughed nervously and flipped his hair again. "It's not that Greg isn't attractive, but the disability, well, it must, I think, require some sort of accommodation."

"Are you suggesting Dr. Cameron isn't capable of making those accommodations?" I asked a tad rudely.

Again, Dr. Chase ran his hand through his golden hair. "It's not a question of being capable or willing," he finally answered. "But I wonder, why make those accommodations if you don't have to?"

My stare bore into him. "So, stay with a non-disabled man because he requires no extra effort?"

He shook his head, and I could tell he was uncomfortable. "No, that's not it at all. Accommodations are necessary for everyone, regardless of their physical abilities. You know that – you have been with House. My curiosity, if you want to call it that, is more about why Allison would choose to be with someone, well, someone she didn't know well. Someone with whom she had no understanding. I tried . . ."

My visage softened. Dr. Chase wasn't being unkind; he was expressing his feelings of rejection. "Dr. Chase, if Dr. Cameron was interested in my brother, it was obviously a fleeting thing. I suspect your feelings for her are more substantial. And her feelings for Blue Eyes, House, are just misconstrued. Sometimes, with women, it takes them a while to see what has been loitering in front of their face for ages. And, sometimes, if the man is willing to be patient and nonjudgmental, he will be rewarded. Sometimes."

I then laid my head back and listened to the eighties' radio station he had playing while we wound our way to my home.

There was no sign of Blue Eyes at the townhouse, but I was too fatigued to care. I slept fitfully, waking early. I scurried to the hospital and, then, to the university. I discovered Dr. Jacobs had requested a meeting with me as soon as I got in.

When I entered his office, his face was stern, showing none of the exuberance and hyperactivity I normally associated with him. He began brusquely.

"I thought about what you told me, Audra, about David's textbook. I couldn't figure out what he had in mind, or why he was acting in such a secretive manner. Well, I investigated, and the result isn't pleasant. For one, he contracted with an outside publisher; we don't mind that, but it _is_ in everyone's contract to give our own press the first option on any manuscript. I have a friend at the publishing house he is using, so I managed to garner a peak at his textbook. You're not going to be happy at what I learned." Still dour-faced, Joel handed me a sheaf of papers.

Joel was right; I was not at all pleased with what I saw. The exercises in David's proposed textbook were almost identical to the writing modules I had been using with my online courses. Any attempt to disguise them was minimal.

I looked up at Joel, an expression of horror on my face. "He can't use this – this is my material," I blurted.

He nodded. "It gets even a bit more sinister. He's agreed to go to press with this in a few weeks, which would interfere with any textbook _you_ composed. Once he has this copyrighted in his name, he would have the upper hand. A lawsuit, of course, would follow, but it could take years to have it successfully settled. In the mean time, he'd be selling _your_ material."

"So, what can I do?"

"I have a meeting with him this afternoon. I'm going to do my best to end this immediately. My friend at his publishing house was quite concerned to learn there might be a problem with plagiarism, so I'm sure I can put a halt to any publication. My bigger problem is what to do with David. He has tenure. I'm going to try to persuade him to leave of his own accord, with a healthy bonus from us. We'll just have to see how things go."

I talked with Joel a bit longer about David's unethical behavior in addition to some other concerns I was having. When I finally left Joel's office, I was distracted and anxious to speak to Blue Eyes about it.

Cindy and Troy, naturally, wanted to hear about the weekend. I raved about the plays; no one can write the way Tom Stoppard does, and they were transfixed as I recounted the high points. After entertaining them for a bit, I sequestered myself in my office and called Blue Eyes. He agreed to meet me for lunch at the townhouse. I promised to bring Indian food as an enticement.

When he came in the townhouse, he was quiet and brooding. He served his plate and sat opposite me at the table.

"When were you planning to tell me you are moving back to Auburn?"

I nearly choked on a piece of naan, sputtering and hacking like I was about to die. He just watched me, his eyes frigid and impassive. "How?" I croaked.

He leaned back from the table, never moving his eyes from my face. "I talked to Ph.d. guy today. He told me, although I gather you hadn't told him. Universities apparently harbor as much gossip as hospitals."

"David's been stealing my writing materials," I whispered. "He's submitted them to a different publisher, trying to get a book out before I can ready my own manuscript. Dr. Jacobs is going to force him to leave." I stopped. I stared at him for a few minutes. "Why did you call David?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to know why he was with Stacy."

"You know he took Stacy to upset _me_. But isn't Stacy a _grown_ woman? Isn't she capable of managing her own dates without _your_ interference?" The more I talked, the angrier I became.

"You upset her. There's no telling what she might have done after that. I needed to let that guy know he couldn't use her so carelessly."

"You _needed_? Are you insane? The only thing you _need_ to do is to leave Stacy the hell alone," I yelled.

Blue Eyes leaned across the table. "You're straying from the significant topic. _When_ were you going to tell me you were moving?"

I stood up and turned to gaze into the backyard, talking to him over my shoulder. "I was_ offered_ a wonderful job at Auburn. I wasn't supposed to give them an answer until today." I turned around to look at him. "I told Dr. Jacobs about the offer. I asked Auburn for a month to make my final decision, and I gave Dr. Jacobs a month to come up with a comparable offer. The truth is that I really _don't_ want to leave here – or, at least, I _didn't_."

He glanced away and said, "Why don't you want to leave here?"

I flapped my arms like some injured, ungraceful bird. "Because of you, you big _idiot_. But we need to discuss this, _both of us_." I placed my palms on the table and shoved my face right over his plate. "You know I've spent my whole life taking care of other people, but I'm not sure you truly realize how much of myself I lost in others. You do know I didn't want a baby; you, of all people, know what a struggle it was to even accept the possibility of having a child. I don't guess I'm supposed to admit it out loud, but I still have ambivalent emotions at times. Part of me wants to chuck the whole parenting bit and just, finally, live for _me_. For _only_ me. However, when it gets right down it, _I can't do that_. Zelda is the most important person in my life, and being her mother is my most important job. My first priority _has_ to be raising her. Nothing, and I mean _not-a-single-thing_, can infringe on her life. That includes you, Blue Eyes. And I don't think you're used to playing second fiddle. I'm not sure you're going to want to continue in this makeshift relationship if you're not top dog."

"So, what is your question?"

I walked away from the table. I felt defeated. I sat back in my chair. "My questions are: Do you want me to stay here? Do you want to continue seeing me once Zelda is out of the hospital and living here – requiring my time and attention and love? Can you abide another person needing me? And, for Christ's sake, can you leave Succubus alone?"

His face remained hard and set. "I think you should go on back to Auburn. It's where you feel at home. Where you're comfortable. It would be best."

"You god dammed shithead," I screamed. "You will not push me away to avoid confronting the realities of relationships and people and children and love. Do you, you cocksucking idiot, love me? And don't give me the rock-in-the-shoe analogy again. Yes or no."

His eyes were as dark as midnight. He glanced around the room, looking at everything except me. When he moved to get up, I panicked.

"No, goddamn it. You will _not_ walk out on me. You _will not_ hide behind your ex-girlfriend, your missing thigh muscle, your vicodin, your misanthropic alienation. I _deserve_ an answer, and I _insist_ on an answer now," I continued as I moved in front of him.

Finally, he looked back into my eyes. "I haven't said this in years, and saying it has never brought about anything good. I'm not sure I can handle being a father to Zelda; I'm pretty certain I _can't _live with the two of you. Not full-time. And as for Stacy, I can only say I don't want her the way I want you."

Again, I asked, "Do you love me?"

He rested his forearms on my shoulders, pulling me to him. I felt his whiskered face rub my hair. Then, I heard him whisper, "Yes, god help us, I do love you, rock-in-the-shoe that you are."

And there we stayed, in one another's arms, at arm's length. Zelda is four-years-old now and mimics Blue Eye's limp perfectly, much to my horror. We live apart but remain a family. It doesn't get any better or any worse than this.


End file.
